“Get them home and inside where it’s warm,” I said, still so reluctant to say goodbye.
“Pretty sure that was a call for supper,” he said. “But yes, I should get them home. Have a good night.”
I got out then, stepping into flurries of snow, and watched Winter drive back down the driveway, his brake lights and blinker transforming the falling snow into neon red and orange.
“Deacon,” Mom called out. I turned to find her at the front door. “Everything okay?”
I came up the porch, unable to keep from smiling. “Yes. Everything’s fine.”
She hurried me inside and helped me take my coat off,careful not to dump snow on the floor. “Boots off,” she said. “Your dad’s making hot chocolate.”
She gave me a smile as she disappeared into the kitchen. I knew they’d have questions, so I was prepared. I just had to stop smiling first.
WhileI really wanted to text Winter that night, I didn’t. I told myself one text the following day would be sufficient. I didn’t want to overdo it, or annoy him while he was at work, so I left it until the afternoon.
I hope your second day is as busy as the first.
He replied fourteen minutes later.
Very busy but great. I’ll be here a while yet. How was your day?
My day was good. We had clinic rounds in the morning to check on the animals staying overnight, but Sundays are generally quiet. I do a lot of cleaning on Sundays. Mom and I decorated the Christmas tree this afternoon.
His next reply came through twelve minutes later.
Yay for the Christmas tree. That sounds delightful. But boo to all that cleaning
I smiled at the little frowny face.
Hope you remembered food today?
His reply didn’t come through for twenty-two minutes so I knew he must be busy.
I did, thank you. I learned my hungry lesson LOL
But then I had nothing else to specifically ask him, and no idea what to contribute, so after grimacing at my phone for a full three minutes, I settled for a closing statement.
“There is a certain slant of light, Winter afternoons”
I waited and waited for his reply but after twenty minutes, I assumed he was either super busy or perhaps he didn’t like the quote. And watching my phone and waiting, imagining scenarios where he thought I was too much or not enough, or not right for him, did nothing but upset my tummy. I was almost queasy and having trouble sitting still when my phone rang.
Not a text, but a phone call.
Winter’s name flashed on the screen, and I was so excited I almost dropped my phone.
“Hello?” I said. “This is Deacon Clark speaking.”
“Hello Deacon Clark, this is Winter Atkins,” he said cheerfully.
My heart rate took off and the butterflies in my tummy soared. “Hello. You said you’d text, not call.”
“Well, yes, but then you quoted Emily Dickinson and that warranted a phone call.”
“It did?”
“Oh yes. Very much. You see, if you quote poetry to me, then I will squeal, and Ro will shove me into the storeroom so I don’t scare the customers.”
He made me laugh. “Is that what happened?”
