moon.
I see the next lantern as we climb higher. And then the next and the next. Wefollow a trail of glowing purple lanterns like crumbs in the forest until we round a corner and they appear all at once in a glorious display up the side of a cliff.
It’s looming and flat as though sheared in half during the ice age. High in the center is a giant waterfall that pours into a long, vertical drop. It’s milky white, unmoving, and completely frozen. Snow has found places to land on each side of the frozen waterfall. It drapes over lumpy boulders, towering pines, and stubborn brush born in crevices. Tiny purple campfires nestle on every available ledge, because Michael could not leave well enough alone. I imagine him climbing up and meticulously placing each lantern for maximum effect. He has succeeded; it’s beauty repeated over and over.
The sleigh eventually stops, and I jump to my feet, gaping up in wonder. Mounds and mounds of water have frozen over the steep cliff top in bluish white ripples and stopped as though someone hit the Pause button. Thin ribbons of water have halted progress and become jagged stalactites suspended above a wide pool. Time is standing still because some winter witch has cast a spell against Mother Nature’s decree that all waterfalls must drop. It’s breathtaking. I’m speechless.
Michael hugs me from behind and murmurs, “I knew you’d like it.” Words are not necessary. I shake my head in wonder.
I’ve never seen anything so amazing, and he knows it
.
Michael laughs and hops to the ground. “Come.” He lifts me out of the sleigh to stand beside him. “I learned something today that I’d like to try.” He holds out his hand. “Trust me?”
I give him a look that says,
Do you really need to ask?
“Good,” he says and leads me to the edge of the deep pool at the base of the waterfall. It’s frozen, too, and I can almost see our reflections in the mirrorlike surface. Michael puts a lantern in my hand and steps away. He blows into his hands like they’re cold and then rubs them together, his eyes never leaving mine. Michael’s hands aren’t cold—this is T-shirt weather to him—so I know he is gearing up for something. I’m nervous. The last time I saw this look, fetching appeared along his forearms, and he took me flying over Haven Hurst.
“Take a closer look,” he says, nodding at the frozen waterfall. I frown suspiciously at him and then turn and look up.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever—whoa!” I’m slowly lifting off the ground. My head whips around and I see Michael, standing with his right arm pointed in my direction. He’s staring with serious concentration as he levitates me.
Okay, so he doesn’t
always
want to do the
human boyfriend
thing.
“Michael!” My voice is wobbly like my body, and my free hand flails. The othergrips the lantern for dear life.
I rise higher and higher, gliding over the pool that looks dark with a layer of crystal frosting from this angle. Up I go, toward the waterfall as though I’m drawn by the water itself. Because I know all things are made to fall, I’m afraid. A terrified sound I’ve never heard before escapes my mouth. I wish Michael was with me but he remains where I left him.
The pressure of his meditation finds the deepest part of me and denies gravity its job, lifting and pushing and maneuvering me higher in the air. I come to a stop, hovering before the cliff where the river tips over and becomes the massive waterfall. Layers of thick frozen water glow purple in front of my lantern.
“Do you see them?” Michael calls up, and I try to twist around and look at him but can’t.
“What?” I wail.
“Look! In the water!” he yells, and I raise the lantern and squint in the murky light.
Vague outlines appear in the frozen water. Sticks, leaves, various debris, and fish. Lots of fish with their eyes bulging and mouths open.
“Holy crap!” I holler down. “It’s like they’re
I see the next lantern as we climb higher. And then the next and the next. Wefollow a trail of glowing purple lanterns like crumbs in the forest until we round a corner and they appear all at once in a glorious display up the side of a cliff.
It’s looming and flat as though sheared in half during the ice age. High in the center is a giant waterfall that pours into a long, vertical drop. It’s milky white, unmoving, and completely frozen. Snow has found places to land on each side of the frozen waterfall. It drapes over lumpy boulders, towering pines, and stubborn brush born in crevices. Tiny purple campfires nestle on every available ledge, because Michael could not leave well enough alone. I imagine him climbing up and meticulously placing each lantern for maximum effect. He has succeeded; it’s beauty repeated over and over.
The sleigh eventually stops, and I jump to my feet, gaping up in wonder. Mounds and mounds of water have frozen over the steep cliff top in bluish white ripples and stopped as though someone hit the Pause button. Thin ribbons of water have halted progress and become jagged stalactites suspended above a wide pool. Time is standing still because some winter witch has cast a spell against Mother Nature’s decree that all waterfalls must drop. It’s breathtaking. I’m speechless.
Michael hugs me from behind and murmurs, “I knew you’d like it.” Words are not necessary. I shake my head in wonder.
I’ve never seen anything so amazing, and he knows it
.
Michael laughs and hops to the ground. “Come.” He lifts me out of the sleigh to stand beside him. “I learned something today that I’d like to try.” He holds out his hand. “Trust me?”
I give him a look that says,
Do you really need to ask?
“Good,” he says and leads me to the edge of the deep pool at the base of the waterfall. It’s frozen, too, and I can almost see our reflections in the mirrorlike surface. Michael puts a lantern in my hand and steps away. He blows into his hands like they’re cold and then rubs them together, his eyes never leaving mine. Michael’s hands aren’t cold—this is T-shirt weather to him—so I know he is gearing up for something. I’m nervous. The last time I saw this look, fetching appeared along his forearms, and he took me flying over Haven Hurst.
“Take a closer look,” he says, nodding at the frozen waterfall. I frown suspiciously at him and then turn and look up.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever—whoa!” I’m slowly lifting off the ground. My head whips around and I see Michael, standing with his right arm pointed in my direction. He’s staring with serious concentration as he levitates me.
Okay, so he doesn’t
always
want to do the
human boyfriend
thing.
“Michael!” My voice is wobbly like my body, and my free hand flails. The othergrips the lantern for dear life.
I rise higher and higher, gliding over the pool that looks dark with a layer of crystal frosting from this angle. Up I go, toward the waterfall as though I’m drawn by the water itself. Because I know all things are made to fall, I’m afraid. A terrified sound I’ve never heard before escapes my mouth. I wish Michael was with me but he remains where I left him.
The pressure of his meditation finds the deepest part of me and denies gravity its job, lifting and pushing and maneuvering me higher in the air. I come to a stop, hovering before the cliff where the river tips over and becomes the massive waterfall. Layers of thick frozen water glow purple in front of my lantern.
“Do you see them?” Michael calls up, and I try to twist around and look at him but can’t.
“What?” I wail.
“Look! In the water!” he yells, and I raise the lantern and squint in the murky light.
Vague outlines appear in the frozen water. Sticks, leaves, various debris, and fish. Lots of fish with their eyes bulging and mouths open.
“Holy crap!” I holler down. “It’s like they’re
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