The Survivor by Shelley Shepard Gray

I’ve been living with my condition so long that I forget everyone else is still wary about it.”
    “I can see how one might do that.”
    She smiled at him, grateful that he was trying so hard to listen and be supportive. “You were right. It used to be that anything could make me sick. But I’m getting healthier and more fit every day. Even strong enough for a little walk in the snow.” She held up a foot. “I even have my boots on.”
    He looked at her black, thick-soled foot, then glanced upward. As he did, William’s deep brown eyes softened enough to make her think that maybe she’d judged him too hastily.
    She looked down and smiled.
    “If you have your boots on, then I suppose we’d best make use of them, jah ?” William asked as he carefully reined in his horse.
    Now she just felt silly. Had she always been so childish? Had she always pushed others in order to get her way?
    When he glanced at her again, she smiled weakly. Nothing needed to be said.
    After pulling the buggy to the side of the road, William easily hopped out and tied his horse to a nearby fence post. Then, with the same economy of motion, he walked to her side.
    “Are you ready to walk now, Mattie?”
    “Of course.” Slipping her hand in his, she clambered down. When her boots landed on the ground, fresh snow crunched underneath them. A few bits splattered around her skirts.
    “Hmm. I have to say that I’ve never been much for wandering around in the snow and ice, but if it’s what you want . . .”
    “I think it will be fun.”
    “Then let’s walk for a bit, shall we?”
    When they stepped forward, her right boot slipped a bit, nearly bringing her backside to the ground.
    With little fanfare, William reached out and gripped her elbow, then slowly slipped his hand down her forearm until their fingers linked together like two well-hewn boards.
    His touch, though chaste, felt impossibly familiar. Too familiar. His palm tightened around hers as they walked over a slippery section, then started toward a thicket of pine trees. Mattie couldn’t help but notice that his hand felt different than Graham’s. A little wider. A little softer, too.
    When his fingers folded around hers for a brief second and when his thumb rubbed her knuckle, she grew embarrassed and pulled away. For the briefest of moments, his grip tightened—refusing to let her hand drop. Then, as if he had just realized what he was doing, he let her hand go.
    Feeling embarrassed and slightly wary, Mattie clasped her hands in front of her. What had just happened between them?
    Her mouth went dry as she dared to wonder about her reactions to him.
    As the tension grew between them, she cleared her throat. Then spied the perfect distraction. “Look, William, rabbit tracks.”
    “Ah.” He pointed to another set of tracks. “These look like deer tracks.” After a second, he grinned at their own tracks, now looking so big and clumsy next to the animal’s perfect prints. “I fear our tracks don’t look near as neat.”
    Mattie smiled at him, pleased he was trying.
    Around them, the sun was peeking through the branches of the trees, casting faint shadows on the snow. A few cardinals and blue jays were fluttering, their bright colors looking strikingly beautiful against the pristine snow.
    It was a beautiful day. A happy day.
    At least, it should have been.
    She glanced William’s way. For a brief moment, he looked bored. But then when he noticed her looking, he lifted his head and smiled. “Happy?”
    She wasn’t. It was now obvious that no matter how beautiful the surroundings—or how hard they tried to converse—they were not a good match. “Oh, yes.”
    “Then I’m happy, too,” he said. Obviously lying. “Though this wind is cold.”
    At least he had hair on the top of his head! Graham would’ve had his arm around her shoulders, just to warm her up. Or would have pulled her over to inspect a squirrel’s nest or an interesting-looking juniper bush. Or he