Page 4 of Forever Christmas
I aim to deserve her.
The reversal was a first step. There is nothingI won’t do to make her happy.
We ride out, surrounded by nothing but dirt and rock and the occasional scrub brush. The highway cuts through like a streak of silver, the center stripe worn down by dust and time.
We pass Alpine, and I turn off the highway to cut down a dirt road. The terrain is rough and Corabelle holds on more tightly as we bump over ruts and ridges.
“I remember this part!”she yells next to my ear.
It’s not far to the turn that leads to the plateau we visited before. It’s been two years since the night we came here to do an astronomy project. It was a key night, part of our reconnection after Corabelle transferred to San Diego to finish her degree.
She hadn’t known I was here, even though we’d both applied our senior year of high school, before she got pregnant.The plan changed with Finn and we chose New Mexico to be near her folks.
After Finn, Corabelle had stayed on in New Mexico. I’d burned that bridge by leaving, so I took up at the only other school to accept me.
I never dreamed we’d meet up again, and even though Corabelle had wanted nothing to do with me at first, I’d gradually convinced her to give me another chance.
The night on the rockhad been part of that, and I hoped today would be another great memory.
We ride to the walking path, the motor revving to take on the incline. We’re in the foothills now, a wind tunnel shaping the land into its own brand of art, statues made of dust and rock.
Brush has overgrown the path more than the last time we were here, so I have to stop the bike sooner. I kill the motor and Corabelle sighs,stretching as she dismounts. “I’m not sure I’m in any better motorcycle shape than the last time we came here,” she says.
It’s true we only take short jaunts on the bike these days, preferring her car for anything more than a quick ride. But it makes my commute cheaper and the insurance break helps.
“Full body massage coming up,” I say.
She shakes her head as she unloads the snacks, but I knowthat smile. She’s with me. It’s going to be a good afternoon.
The sun is bright white overhead. The mountains are pearl gray on the horizon, the sandblasted world around us a burnished red in the searing light.
“About as hot as I expected,” I say and unlatch the rolled-up blanket from the side of the bike. We tramp around the brush, jumping on rocks and picking our way back to the path. I seethe plateau ahead, a wide flat space among the hills and valleys.
I scramble up the embankment, then turn to help Corabelle. It feels like the last time, all nerves and anticipation. But right. We’re together. No matter what else happens, we have that.
And this time she’s my wife.
We straighten the blanket and lie back, closing our eyes to the blazing sky.
“Remember what happened last timewe were here?” she asks.
“Why do you think I brought you?” I joke. “I’m aiming for a repeat.”
Her arm flings out to bop my chest. “We’ll get to that,” she says. “We talked about Finn. The stars were out. They always reminded us of him.”
“Still do,” I say.
“True. I think this wide open space does it, though. Even without the stars.”
I turn on my side to look at her. Beyond her the mountainsand rock and wild brush spread out as far as you can see. We could be the only two people in the world. “You doing okay with the news this morning?” I ask.
“It’s hopeful,” she says. “Not the best, but not the worst either. Like life.”
I prop my head on my hand and trail my fingers along the buttons down the front of her shirt. “Maybe the test in three months will be better.”
She shifts on theblanket. It’s a subtle movement, like she’s trying to find a more comfortable spot. But I know her. It’s not her body that is unsettled, but her heart.
“You don’t think it will be?” I ask.
