Chapter 7
Central Park was white.
A blanket of snow had fallen overnight, leaving behind a veritable wonderland. The soft powder blanketed everything as far as the eye could see, hanging from tree limbs and obscuring the grass and pathways, leaving only a few naked magnolia trees to contrast the down.
The sun sparkled against the snow, casting the scene in soft light, as families played together and lovers meandered hand-in-hand.
It was magical, and Penny was falling under its spell.
“Not what you were expecting?” Mike mused beside her, as he chewed his hotdog, which came with all the trimmings.
“No, definitely not what I expected,” she answered as they walked, their footfalls in synch. “I would never have pegged you for a hotdog kinda guy.”
“Gray’s Papaya isn’t just a hotdog. It’s an experience. One everyone who visits New York should have.”
Once again a small laugh erupted from some quiet place inside her, which had long lay dormant. It felt good. Really good.
Penny stuffed the last bit of her hotdog into her mouth, savouring the morsel. Mike had been right, a Gray’s hotdog was an experience. She crumpled the remnants into her palm, but halted abruptly as Mike’s encircled hers. Her breath hitched and her eyes widened, a slight shiver tracking up her arms.
“Let me.” Her fingers unfolded without protest, transferring the wrapper from her hand to his.
A small smirk played at Mike’s lips as he turned and tossed the wrappers in a nearby bin. She watched him silently before falling into step with him once more.
They walked in companionable silence, neither feeling the need to break it with conversation. Their steps weaved away and towards each other as they moved further into the park.
“It’s like walking in a snow globe,” Penny whispered to herself as she took in the beauty around her. Winter in New York was very different from winter in London. She couldn’t describe how it made her feel – warm, hopeful. She breathed deeply, holding on to the feeling, determining never to let it go, even when she had to go back home.
“Do you like horses?” Mike’s voice interrupted. There was a glint in his eye, a playfulness, as he spoke.
“Never really been around them. Why?” Her brow furrowed gently, even more when Mike grasped her hand and began marching towards a horse and carriage.
He couldn’t mean to –
“You will now,” he stated.
Penny’s stomach flipped, but she didn’t resist. Even as he spoke to the driver and offered her a hand to board the all-white buggy, which was lined in red velvet, she didn’t protest. Instead, she gripped his hand, looked into his eyes and smiled as she pulled herself up and settled upon the plush bench. Mike was beside her a moment later and they were off.
The moment the horse and carriage moved off Penny felt a thrill run through her. The stately ginger stallion pranced proudly as he pulled, black harness upon his back, his driver bedecked in black top hat and red tails – quintessentially Christmas, a Santa for Central Park, the carriage his sleigh.
“Who are you?” she mused, her head shaking lightly.
“What’d you mean?” Mike countered, shifting towards her.
“You took me for a hotdog lunch and now a carriage ride through Central Park. You’re like some actor from a movie or something.” She laughed openly. “I bet you even have the dream life here in New York too.” Penny’s laughter would have continued if it hadn’t been for the look in Mike’s eyes, a sadness.
The lump in Mike’s throat rose and fell as he swallowed down the memories. He may have wished for the dream life, but his was far from some pretty composition.
He hesitated to speak, searching Penny’s face for the answer, but finding it was something closer to his heart that had the reply. He looked away, focusing his eyes on the bobbing of the stallion’s head.
“I didn’t always live here Penny. I came out here to live with my uncle when I was thirteen,” he paused, then continued. “Like I said, I was raised in Minnesota, a little farm near Wright. Growing up there was wonderful.” He smiled, a sad smile.
Penny sat back, listening.
“It was me, my dad, my mom and my brother Nathan. Nathan was a great kid. He was two years younger than I was, and followed me around like a shadow. Everything I did, he had to do to. I fell, he fell. We were always together. My mother would warn me to watch out for him. And I did. I tried to. But I failed.”
“You don’t have to –” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the way his jaw tensed. She suddenly wanted to sooth that straining muscle with a stroke of her thumb. She resisted.
“It’s okay,” Mike interrupted, offering a weak smile in compensation. “It was a long time ago.”
