By Meagan Frank (Darkness/ Faith/ Perplexed)
Finally.
She closes her eyes as she wraps her lips around the steam of her coffee, and she acknowledges the sun. It’s not just light this morning…it’s warmth too. A quirky smile spreads itself across her face, and she feels more energized than she has in months.
Maybe it’s the anticipation she’s held for this day. Maybe it’s the seemingly sudden appearance of movement at the window, after the frozen white of winter. But probably it’s the realization that he really came over last night, and…he’s still here.
Startled by the gentle touch, she tilts her head to expose her neck as she carefully sets down her coffee. She feels his hand slide across her stomach and into the opening of her robe while his mouth nibbles the top of her ear.
“Good morning, Grace,” he says while hugging her from behind. He stands up and walks past her to the coffee pot, and she is relieved she hasn’t had to use her wobbly legs.
She tries to remember to breathe, and squeaks out. “Good morning, Ryan.”
“You okay I’m here?” he looks directly through her.
“Of course,” she darts her glance away from him. She loses the ability to speak when he looks at her like that.
Ryan sets his coffee down on the table and seats himself next to her. His leg touches hers, and Grace does everything she can to get her composure back. She never thought she would feel like this again.
“You still want to go on that hike with me today?” she asks.
“Sure. Where are we going again?”
Grace gets up to get the journal off the coffee table, but as she starts to walk away, he grabs her hand and pulls her fingers to his parted lips. Frozen by the heart-racing sensations, she stands immobile for a moment. Realizing she has stopped breathing, she pulls in air and shakes her hand away.
“You’ve got to stop doing that!” she scolds him.
“What?” he innocently smiles between sips of coffee.
Standing in the other room, Grace leafs through the journal to find the notes she has read countless times. Her eyebrows take a perplexed shape, and then soften as she finds what she has been looking for.
“We need to head southwest to a stream that comes off the lake," she loudly relays. "There is supposed to be some awkwardly-shaped trunk or something.”
“Oh, sure,” he pulls the mug down from his mouth. “I know where that is. The stream might be a little harder to find this early in the spring, but I know where the tree is.”
____________________________________________
After the mile-long hike from the cabin, Ryan and Grace find themselves circling an area that is supposed to be the head-waters. The run-off, mushy mud, and puddles of snow-melt are what make up the ground in and around the funky tree, but it is not as easy to discern the start of a stream.
“This has to be it,” Ryan explains, walking himself along a deeper part of the standing water.
Grace’s eyes follow his work boots, and she tries to see what the journal has described. She coaxes her memory of the description, and focuses her attention to where the water is supposed to go. There is still snow, and mud, but the darker snow trail finally becomes visible.
“You’re right! This is it! We have to go this way.”
The pair slosh through the water-logged snow and leave big boot prints in their wake. They find themselves coming to a clearing in the trees, and the field of melting snow lay in front of them. Grace looks up and sees exactly what she has been picturing in her mind.
“That’s it,” she points to the lone tree standing in the field. “That’s where the stream goes.”
As they get closer to the field-tree they can actually hear the stream.
“What in the world? Where is that coming from?” he asks.
A knowing grin emerges and Grace reaches for Ryan’s gloved hand.
“You have faith, right?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You believe what I’ve told you so far, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. I kindof thought you were making it up.”
“I’m not making in up, Ryan. I know that for sure now!”
She pulls him along faster and they find the noise…but lose the stream.
“It’s a disappearing stream!” She says excitedly. “You hear that water? It’s falling, who knows how far, to the bottom of a cavern.”
Grace lays down in her snowsuit and crawls toward the sound. She pulls snow away to reveal a tiny opening in the ground. Ryan lays down next to her and the two of them strain to see anything in the darkness.
“We’re going down there, you know?” She pops to her knees.
“We are?” he hesitates.
Grace looks back in the direction of the lake and as though she is not even talking to Ryan anymore, she nods, “we most certainly are.”
Finally.
She closes her eyes as she wraps her lips around the steam of her coffee, and she acknowledges the sun. It’s not just light this morning…it’s warmth too. A quirky smile spreads itself across her face, and she feels more energized than she has in months.
Maybe it’s the anticipation she’s held for this day. Maybe it’s the seemingly sudden appearance of movement at the window, after the frozen white of winter. But probably it’s the realization that he really came over last night, and…he’s still here.
Startled by the gentle touch, she tilts her head to expose her neck as she carefully sets down her coffee. She feels his hand slide across her stomach and into the opening of her robe while his mouth nibbles the top of her ear.
“Good morning, Grace,” he says while hugging her from behind. He stands up and walks past her to the coffee pot, and she is relieved she hasn’t had to use her wobbly legs.
She tries to remember to breathe, and squeaks out. “Good morning, Ryan.”
“You okay I’m here?” he looks directly through her.
“Of course,” she darts her glance away from him. She loses the ability to speak when he looks at her like that.
Ryan sets his coffee down on the table and seats himself next to her. His leg touches hers, and Grace does everything she can to get her composure back. She never thought she would feel like this again.
“You still want to go on that hike with me today?” she asks.
“Sure. Where are we going again?”
Grace gets up to get the journal off the coffee table, but as she starts to walk away, he grabs her hand and pulls her fingers to his parted lips. Frozen by the heart-racing sensations, she stands immobile for a moment. Realizing she has stopped breathing, she pulls in air and shakes her hand away.
“You’ve got to stop doing that!” she scolds him.
“What?” he innocently smiles between sips of coffee.
Standing in the other room, Grace leafs through the journal to find the notes she has read countless times. Her eyebrows take a perplexed shape, and then soften as she finds what she has been looking for.
“We need to head southwest to a stream that comes off the lake," she loudly relays. "There is supposed to be some awkwardly-shaped trunk or something.”
“Oh, sure,” he pulls the mug down from his mouth. “I know where that is. The stream might be a little harder to find this early in the spring, but I know where the tree is.”
____________________________________________
After the mile-long hike from the cabin, Ryan and Grace find themselves circling an area that is supposed to be the head-waters. The run-off, mushy mud, and puddles of snow-melt are what make up the ground in and around the funky tree, but it is not as easy to discern the start of a stream.
“This has to be it,” Ryan explains, walking himself along a deeper part of the standing water.
Grace’s eyes follow his work boots, and she tries to see what the journal has described. She coaxes her memory of the description, and focuses her attention to where the water is supposed to go. There is still snow, and mud, but the darker snow trail finally becomes visible.
“You’re right! This is it! We have to go this way.”
The pair slosh through the water-logged snow and leave big boot prints in their wake. They find themselves coming to a clearing in the trees, and the field of melting snow lay in front of them. Grace looks up and sees exactly what she has been picturing in her mind.
“That’s it,” she points to the lone tree standing in the field. “That’s where the stream goes.”
As they get closer to the field-tree they can actually hear the stream.
“What in the world? Where is that coming from?” he asks.
A knowing grin emerges and Grace reaches for Ryan’s gloved hand.
“You have faith, right?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You believe what I’ve told you so far, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. I kindof thought you were making it up.”
“I’m not making in up, Ryan. I know that for sure now!”
She pulls him along faster and they find the noise…but lose the stream.
“It’s a disappearing stream!” She says excitedly. “You hear that water? It’s falling, who knows how far, to the bottom of a cavern.”
Grace lays down in her snowsuit and crawls toward the sound. She pulls snow away to reveal a tiny opening in the ground. Ryan lays down next to her and the two of them strain to see anything in the darkness.
“We’re going down there, you know?” She pops to her knees.
“We are?” he hesitates.
Grace looks back in the direction of the lake and as though she is not even talking to Ryan anymore, she nods, “we most certainly are.”
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