Love After Snowfall by Suzanne D. Williams

meant leaving him overnight, a thought which terrified her. The fire could go out. His weakness could return. A thousand things could go wrong.
    But she simply couldn’t do nothing like she had with Nathan. This time she had to leave. There wasn’t any choice.
    She stared up at the sky, her thoughts turning toward all Ezekiel had said about God. If they were true and God had brought them together, then perhaps God would keep him safe as well. She could pray. But what were the right words to give? She had no understanding of prayer past the one she used to say as a child.
    Surely, God wasn’t deaf, and if she spoke from her heart, He’d hear her. Unless He was busy. But seems like then He wouldn’t be God. God would make time to listen. She shivered in the frosty air and dug deep within.
    “I lost Nathan through my own stupidity,” she said. “I’ll not lose Ezekiel, too. I think you won’t send me a third man to love, so if it’s just as well, I’ll keep this one.”
    The wind gave a soul-screeching lament in return.
    “You’d do best to keep him warm and alive until I return. Thank you.”
    With that, she traced her steps back to the teepee. Crawling inside, she faced Ezekiel on his pallet. “I’ve said my prayer on your behalf. I’ll leave at first light. God help me if anything goes wrong.”
    Ezekiel stretched out a hand his fingers dusting the tips of hers. “That gives me hours to feel you at my side. Come.”
    She shed her jacket and curled herself against him.

    CHAPTER 5
     
    Her kisses drying on his cheeks, Ez ekiel laid back, the emptiness of the teepee swallowing him. He took hold of a long piece of wood and prodded the fire, emotion clogging his throat. Two days was a long time to be alone, a long time to occupy his mind and ward off thoughts of death. Because he felt it creeping ever closer. Twice, before she’d brought him here he’d thought he was gone for good, and twice, she’d kept him alive.
    Now, there was on ly himself to consider, and he was insufficient to the task. For all his words to her, his encouragement of God’s plans for them to be together, he was in reality so small and defenseless.
    Ezekiel whistled and Timmy returned , her nose frosted with snow. He scratched her behind the ears, and she gave a contented wag.
    “Too bad you can’t talk to me, girl,” he said. “I could use the distraction.” At least, she was something warm and alive to hold onto.
    Timmy sniffed the dish at his side, and he dug in and drew her out a bite.
    “Can’t let you have too much of that , or we’ll both be hungry before tomorrow ends.”
    Timmy gulped down the morsel and poked at his hand with her snout. He shoved her away. “No, now, that’s enough. We’ll have more later.”
    Later, when Clementine would still be far away and headed in the opposite direction.
    He blew out a puff of air. “Waiting stinks.”
    Loneliness stunk as well, and he couldn’t live like that anymore. There was nothing admirable left of solitude.
    He’d built his cabin to embrace it. A man only needs himself , he’d said. But look at Clem. She’d lived alone and become someone she didn’t want to be.
    Solitude in itself was a selfish thing. The very idea you didn’t need anyone was you proclaiming you needed only yourself. A lie.
    What would have happened if she hadn’ t found him? He’d been miles from her cabin, in a place he’d had no knowledge of and mostly likely, wouldn’t have found. If he would have survived, it would have been by tenacity and after days traveling on a bad leg. Days that someone could use to, what? Burn down his cabin?
    Was it because of the story of gold? That tale had seemed far-fetched the first time he’d heard it. Yet it could be somebody believed it. People up here were inherently superstitious.
    Taking this to the point of t hreatening his life was extreme, however.
    Ezekiel covered the bowls of pre-prepared food and shut his eyes. Best thing to do was sleep. Except