Precious and Fragile Things

  The door to the lean-to opened as she stood there. Todd, wearing no coat, no hat, just the same familiar hooded sweatshirt, was already lighting up a cigarette. He snapped his lighter closed and tucked it in his front jeans pocket, then jerked his chin toward her.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” She sounded breathy, winded.

  “How’s it going?”

  Gilly stretched, not wanting to lose her momentum or get chilled. “Good. Fine. Great, as a matter of fact.”

  “You coming back in?”

  “Not yet.” She stepped off the path of beaten-down snow into the depths of a small drift and sank up to her shins. “Still walking.”

  “It’s cold as fuck out here, Gilly.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. She was already nearing the house’s second corner. She had a rhythm starting, and she grinned. It seemed to take him aback, because he flinched.

  “Crazy bitch,” Todd muttered. He went inside and closed the door firmly. The scent of smoke lingered for only half a second before the wind whisked it away.

  Gilly looked at the sky and, laughing, did her best Todd imitation. “Fucking insane.”

  She pushed on. Five more steps. She experimented, taking small half steps interspersed with lunging strides. She stopped to rest after just a few steps. Her breath whistled in her throat, her mouth parched, and she scooped a handful of snow to melt on her tongue.

  Gilly had never understood those people who risked their lives to climb mountains or explore wastelands. One of Seth’s favorite shows was that one about the man who put himself out into the wilderness and survived by eating insects and drinking urine. Gilly didn’t even like to read about that sort of thing, much less watch it on television. So what on earth was possessing her to live it now?

  Without looking at her watch she could only guess at the amount of time she’d been out here already, but it hadn’t been too long. Perhaps half an hour. Thirty minutes to move a few hundred feet!

  Sweat streamed down her back and froze on her forehead. She sucked in gusts of air, burning her lungs and enjoying it. Determination fueled her. It would be so easy to give up. Gilly forced herself to move forward two more steps, the weight of the snow even heavier on her legs now that she’d taken a few minutes to rest.

  If she gave up now, it would be a failure she could never forgive herself for. Somehow, for some stupid reason, making her way around this cabin had fixed itself in her mind as something important. Sacrifice for redemption…for penance? An idea completely at odds with what she believed, totally against her faith.

  However, knowing what she was doing was crazy didn’t make Gilly change her mind. She set her jaw, biting at the thick fabric of her sweatshirt to keep it from slipping down off her face. She lifted her legs, the muscles burning, and set them down. Two more steps.

  By the time she made it around the cabin’s second corner, her mood had changed from exhilaration to doubt. She reached out to touch the side of the cabin. Like a talisman, touching the rough shingles gave her strength.

  Evening, by her reckoning, was a few hours away, but the sky had grown dark enough to make it seem as though night were beginning to fall. She had to finish this journey before that happened. She might be crazy, but she wasn’t insane enough to stay out here after dark.

  Gilly had only seen the back of the cabin through the windows. Once out here, the humped and hilly landscape of snow seemed as foreign to her as an alien planet. She made it to a dilapidated picnic table, heaped high with snow, with a minimum of huffing and puffing and steadied herself on its snow-covered top.

  Gilly glanced to the windows, half-expecting to see Todd’s broad silhouette checking on her again, but all she saw was the glow of the lights he must’ve recently lit. She paused long enough to sit on the table’s bench seat and wiggle her toes inside the boots. She could still feel her feet pushing against the leather, though all other sensation had numbed. The foolishness of this undertaking struck her as she thought of blackened and amputated toes.

  Don’t think of it. You’ll be okay. Just keep moving.

  She whacked the snow off her bottom and looked at the cabin. Through the windows she saw Todd moving. It looked warm in there, and though she wasn’t cold yet—not really, aside from her toes—she was tired and hungry and worn-out.

  “Move your ass,” she said aloud. “C’mon, Gilly. You came out here and wanted to do this. Don’t be a baby.”

  Time ceased ticking as she stumbled through the mounds of whiteness. One foot in front of the other, lifting and plunging. The sound of her breath came loud in her ears, like a freight train. Like the roar of a lion. It gave her strength, that sound, and when she opened her mouth and let out a scream of triumph as she touched the cabin’s third corner, she didn’t care how crazy or bestial she sounded. Her shriek echoed off the trees, startling a rabbit from its hiding place beneath the thick undergrowth. The sound of it, though it had come from her own throat and of her own volition, frightened Gilly, too.

  She was almost there. The world tilted in front of her eyes, but Gilly managed to bring it back into focus. No fainting out here, not even if it meant she could lie down in the deep, soft snow. Sleep had never been so appealing, but to sleep here meant certain death. She must keep moving.

  Had she ever done anything this physically hard? Gilly thought again of childbirth, the never-endingness of it, the fact that once begun she could not have stopped it if she tried. There are moments in life that once started cannot be stopped; she would have to see this through to completion as surely as she’d given birth to her children. There was no going back. Only forward.

  She gathered her strength again, feeling it ebb with every moment she remained still. Her body screamed a protest when she forced her foot forward. Gilly stumbled, the first time since she’d stepped off the porch earlier this afternoon, and hit the snow.

  It engulfed her, enveloped her, wrapped her in clouds of stinging softness. Whiteness filled her eyes, her nose, her throat while she coughed and gagged. She was drowning in it.

  Gilly got her feet beneath her and pushed with her hands, lifting herself out of the drift with an effort she could only classify as superhuman. She shivered, then quaked with reaction and cold.

  “C’mon,” she muttered, slapping her hands together. “Stupid, Gilly! Stupid to do this!”

  But even as her body stung and ached, and the bitter wind tore at her flesh, Gilly didn’t feel stupid. She was almost done. She would do this, and in doing it become stronger.

  She forged ahead, battling her weakness with grunts and curses. She touched the fourth corner of the cabin, viewed the front porch, and found no strength for screams this time. Instead she gathered her breath and forced herself to drag herself through the snow.

  “To the steps,” she breathed. “Then I’m done.”

  And she made it to the steps, though without recall of how she did it. Every painful step of the trip around the house was clear like ice in her brain, but not the final steps. She simply found herself inside the front door, shedding her clothes, and realized she’d done it.

  Her hands wouldn’t loosen her clothes. Gilly staggered to the dining room table, knocking puzzle pieces to the floor. She didn’t have the strength to do more.

  The room felt blessedly, unbearably hot. She raised her face to the warmth, letting it seep into her as she tried to shed her sodden, frozen clothes.

  “Get out of that stuff,” Todd told her.

  Gilly looked up, feeling the goofy grin paint itself on her face. “I did it. All the way around the house!”

  “You’re a real jerkoff, Gilly, do you know that?”

  She should’ve felt worse for her adventure. Should’ve been cringing and whimpering as the heat leached into her frozen bones. Instead, Gilly felt joyous. Exuberant. She almost, but not quite, laughed.

  The almost-laugh sobered her. “I need to warm up.”

  “I heated some water for you.”

  “What?”
His statement was so unexpected, she blurted the question though she had heard him perfectly.

  “It should still be hot,” Todd told her. He held up one hand to show her a splash of red across it. “Burned myself just for you, so you better fucking enjoy it.”

  Enjoy it? Gilly almost bent down and kissed Todd’s feet for the kindness. “Thank you, thank you, oh, God. Thank you!”

  She didn’t need his help to make it to the bathroom, and once inside, even managed to slide out of her layers of clothes. Naked, she worked her fingers and toes and was relieved to see they looked all right.

  Sliding into the hot water made her cry out, moan, whimper. In seconds her body adjusted to the temperature, and it became paradise. He’d filled the tub nearly to overflowing, a task that must’ve taken him nearly the same amount of time for her to make it around the cabin.

  Gilly sank into the water, letting it heal her. No one would probably ever understand why she’d done it. She wasn’t sure she understood, herself. But she had, and it was something she would never forget. Gilly grinned and sank beneath the water.

  By all rights, when she got out she should have been stiff and sore. That would come later, maybe, when her muscles tightened as she slept. Now, though, she felt just fine. Relaxed. Even…content. Not with her situation, which she could be resigned to but not content with. Content with herself. It was a feeling she hadn’t had in a long, long time.

  “Todd?”

  His answer came garbled and muffled. “Yeah?”

  “Can you bring me something to wear?”

  She heard him pound up the stairs and then down. The door creaked. His hand appeared with a pile of dry clothes. The door closed again.

  Gilly dressed, combed her hair, brushed her teeth. She peered at her windburned cheeks in the mirror and noted the sparkle in her eyes. She bared her teeth at the image and then ignored it.

  She walked out into a candlelit haven. The smell of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and her stomach grumbled. She was starving.

  “What’s for…?” Gilly stopped, stunned.

  Todd had set the table. Though the candles were utilitarian and white, they highlighted pretty china plates and silverware on a delicate flowered cloth. He turned from the stove as she came into the kitchen.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he said.

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Todd motioned for her to sit, and she did, sliding into the chair that had become hers by habit. She touched the silverware, the plates, the tablecloth.

  Todd had brushed his hair. It swept off his face to curl softly behind his ears and to his shoulders. The permanent scruff of his beard had been shaved. He wore a black turtleneck shirt and jeans, and his feet were bare.

  Gilly saw all these things because she could not look away from him. Todd’s smile was brief before it disappeared. The cautious look in his eyes was belied by his confident stance.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Gilly.”

  Her heart met her stomach as one sank and the other leaped to her throat. She bent her head to stare at the plate, no longer able to look at him.

  Oh, no. Oh, God.

  “It’s only macaroni and cheese,” Todd said, “but it’s the good kind. Shells. It’s the best of what’s left. I thought you might like it.”

  He’d also made canned potatoes, soft and white, and added slivers of some kind of potted meat the origin of which she knew better than to question. He’d added a plate of saltines painted with grape jelly. Her stomach, which had been growling only moments before, twisted at the sight of the haphazard dinner. She picked up her fork anyway.

  “You were out there a real long time,” Todd said. “I thought I might have to go out for you.”

  “No,” Gilly said faintly, raising a forkful of cheesy pasta to her lips. “I was okay.”

  “I don’t have any candy, but I made a white cake for dessert. Box mix. Didn’t have eggs, but I think it turned out okay.”

  “Good.” She chewed carefully, still unable to look at him.

  “Gilly.”

  She raised her gaze to his. In the candlelight, his eyes were the color of warm caramel. The black turtleneck emphasized the darkness of his hair and the paleness of his skin. He could’ve passed for a gothic novel’s vampire lover, save he had no fangs.

  “I never did this for anyone before. It’s probably shit compared to what you’re used to.”

  “I…we…don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day,” Gilly said. His brow furrowed. She explained further. “The holiday started as a way to honor Saint Valentine…many Jews don’t recognize Christian saints.”

  Todd slid into his chair and rested his hands on the table. “So you never got cards or chocolates or stuff like that?”

  Gilly shook her head. “Not usually, no.”

  He grinned. “Then it’s a first for you, too.”

  “Todd…”

  “Please, Gilly,” Todd said softly. “Just this once, for tonight. Can you let me be nice to you?”

  Something inside her broke, agonizing in its painlessness. Gilly sighed, brushing her forehead with the fingertips of one hand. She was helpless to deny him, despite the strength she had gained only hours before.

  “All right. Sure.”

  The smile lit up his face, creasing his cheeks and sending sparks to flare in the chocolate-colored eyes. He forked a bite of macaroni and cheese but seemed unable to eat it. Todd wriggled in his seat like a puppy thrilled with praise from its master.

  It was only a meal. She would think no further than that. Just this once, for a reason she could not explain and would not ponder, she would let him be nice to her.

  He charmed her over the sorry meal. Todd had already proved himself to be insightful. When he wasn’t self-conscious about being stupid, he actually turned out to be knowledgeable on a lot of subjects, and Gilly told him so.

  “Nah. It’s just a bunch of stupid shit nobody cares about. Just trivia.” He mixed potatoes and macaroni and cheese without eating it.

  “No, it’s not,” she insisted. “It’s not just trivia, Todd. Being smart isn’t always about what big words you can spout out or how fast you can do math, you know.”

  He shrugged. “I guess I’ve just…lived more, or something. Done a lot of stuff. Hey, that’s one good thing about never hanging on to a job, I guess. I learned how to do a lot of stuff. But I’m still stupid.”

  He had indeed lived a lot more than she ever had. She didn’t envy him the experience. “Doing stupid things doesn’t mean you’re stupid, Todd.”

  “No?” His brows arched beneath the fringe of his dark hair. “What does it mean?”

  “Well. It means you’re…not…it just means…you need to think before you act.” She nodded firmly, the voice of authority.

  The food disappeared as they talked. At the end of the meal, Todd presented the cake with a flourish, though it was flat and crumbly without the eggs for the batter. It tasted strongly of cinnamon and honey, two flavors Gilly didn’t like. She ate it anyway, and praised him for the effort.

  Todd gave her his curious puppy look. “You’re being nice.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Ain’t so hard, is it?”

  That it wasn’t difficult would’ve frightened her had Gilly allowed it. Instead, she put it from her mind, too. A thought for a later time.

  They’d never assigned each other chores, each usually taking care of their own meal prep and cleanup, but tonight Todd cleared and washed the dishes, insisting she sit.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he insisted at her protest that he’d done enough by preparing the meal. “Take a load off.”

  Gilly had never really minded missing out on the national day of romance. Seth had been fond of reminding her that every day in their marriage was a celebration of their love. Gilly didn’t always agree, particularly on the days when the children’s hijinks had shortened her temper and Seth breezed in late from work asking
“What’s for dinner?” Still, she didn’t miss the overpriced chocolates and bouquets of flowers that were heavy on guilt and lacking in sentiment. Her husband told her he loved her every day, and didn’t need the words on a greeting card to do it.

  Because she didn’t share Valentine’s Day with Seth, sharing it with Todd somehow didn’t seem like betrayal. At least not so far, with his innocuous offering of food and service. Gilly sat on the couch, watching the play of candlelight on the ceiling.

  She shivered and wanted the chill to come from the room’s lowering temperature and not from her sudden anxious anticipation. She got up to put some more logs on the fire, and took the last three from the battered wicker basket next to the stove. They were almost out of wood.

  “We need more wood,” Gilly called.

  Todd appeared beside her, startling her. “The pile out back’s all, gone,” he said, using the typical Pennsylvania Dutch phrasing that usually made her cringe. “I didn’t have time to cut more today.”

  Gilly hadn’t realized their supply was so low. She felt stupid for not noticing. “Oh.”

  Todd poked at the logs she’d put on. Red sparks hissed in the fire. The logs popped and complained at their fiery fate.

  “I’ll cut some more tomorrow.”

  He’d leaned across her to reach the poker. Now they faced each other from no more than a few inches apart. The red and orange flames reflected in his eyes, and Gilly knew she didn’t imagine the questions she saw there.

  Self-consciously, she got to her feet and moved away. She wasn’t certain exactly where she meant to go when there was no place to escape. His voice, low and uncertain, froze her solid.

  “Gilly…”

  She murmured a reply. “Hmm?”

  He sighed. She closed her eyes and her teeth found the inside of her cheek. She prayed he wouldn’t find the courage to ask her the question she’d seen glimmering in his eyes. He cleared his throat, and she tensed. Waiting.