When I pull up to the parking lot overlooking the St. Croix River, I wait to take in all the ice sculptures until Juju pulls up next to me. I get out of the car and slide my hands together.
“It’s brutal out here,” I say.
She nods briskly, wrapping her coat around her tighter.
“I mean, it’s good for the ice sculptures, but not so great for us…” I say, trailing off. “How ’bout we grab a warm drink before we start looking?”
“Good idea.”
We find a place that serves hot chocolate and coffee, and we both get hot chocolate.
“Our eyelashes might be clumping with tiny icicles right now, but our mouths and bellies are warm,” Juju says as we walk toward the frozen river.
I can’t remember how many years the International Snow Sculpture Championships have been happening, not too many, but I’ve only been one other time. It’s shocked me both times how skilled these artists are.
When she finally pays attention to the sculptures out on the river, she gasps. It’s mind-blowing to see what people from all different countries have created out of ice, and in these painfully cold conditions no less.
We slowly walk by each one. There’s a Native American woman holding a child. Lovers sitting on a swing. Another depicts an old couple walking away hand in hand. The level of detail is incredible. Finland has won first place, and the sculpture’s deserving, though we equally love Spain’s, a profile of a woman with long, flowing hair leaning on a crescent moon.
Things are going so well that after we’ve walked around the sculptures several times, I turn to her. “I’m hungry. How about you?”
“Yes. There’s a restaurant I’ve been wanting to try. It’s been open for a while, but I’ve been too busy in Windy Harbor to get over here very often.”
“It’s been a few years since I’ve been to Stillwater. I missed all my favorite places when I lived in Colorado…although there were plenty of beautiful places to see there.”
“Do you miss it?” she asks.
“I do. I love the mountains, and I’m missing those, but it’s too good to be around family to think about the things I miss. I’m glad to be home.”
“I know everyone missed you. Or maybe just Jackson,” she adds, smiling.
“Not you, of course.”
Her cheeks flush, and she shakes her head.
“Why would I?” She laughs to kind of make up for the sharp tone, which did sting, not gonna lie.
I also know I deserve it.
“Right. Exactly,” I say, going for playful.
What felt like a short walk to the restaurant feels like an eternity in the –10 degree weather. Juju’s teeth are chattering before a minute has passed.
I hold my arms out and say, “Here, let me help.”
She surprises me by taking me up on it, stepping into my hold gratefully. We huddle together the rest of the way.
“Thank you,” she says when we step inside the warmth.
I’m reluctant to let her go—no one wants to be cold, after all—but I don’t want to make it weird. The restaurant has a full bar and tables with low light, giving it a cool, vibey ambiance.
“They have a lot of new restaurants now, compared to when I was growing up here,” I say, still looking around.
“I’m glad this town is thriving. Gives me hope for Windy Harbor. Things have already moved in the right direction. People are excited about the changes coming. It was sad for a while when things started shutting down a few years ago—it was a risky time for me to start a new business there, but it’s all worked out.”
Looking across the table at her, I’m struck by how beautiful she is. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, her eyes luminous in the candlelight. The day is cloudy and a bit dark, but the light coming through the window shines around her like a halo.
It knocks me speechless for a moment.
