Chapter 24: The Green Sign

It snowed on Friday morning, the first real snow, and the pines behind Gram's cabin wore new coats.

I lay on a quilt in front of the woodstove with Emmett's chin on my shoulder and his arm across my ribs.

The bars didn't reach us there, and the only voices were the fire and the wind.

On the kitchen table, side by side, sat two pieces of paper.

One was my offer letter, with the words THREE DAYS IN THE OFFICE.

Under it, in my boss's handwriting, she had added: and not a day more than you want.

The other was a letter from the Wisconsin DNR in Rhinelander, forty minutes south, with the words WILDLAND FIRE CREW, APRIL THROUGH NOVEMBER.

It had come in the mail Thursday.

I had not asked him to apply, and he had not asked me to take the job.

"Montana pays better," he said into my neck.

"Montana's a long way."

"It's a longer way when the cabin's at this end."

I rolled over and looked at him.

The firelight sat in the lines around his eyes, and he looked back at me.

"Say it," I said.

"I'm not asking you to stay."

"I'm not asking you either."

"Good."

"Good," I said, and kissed him.

It was slow this time.

His hands moved over my back, and mine went into his hair.

I pushed him onto the quilt and climbed over him, and he looked up at me with the fire painting his chest gold.

I took him in my hand and sank down on him inch by inch, until he filled me, and neither of us breathed.

"There you are," he said, rough.

I rocked my hips, slow and deep, and he held my waist and let me set the pace.

The stove ticked.

Snow slid off the roof in a long soft rush.

I leaned down and kissed him, and he came up to meet me, and we moved together without hurry.

"Britta."

"I'm here."

"Say it again."

"I'm here, Emmett. I'm not going anywhere."

He came with a low groan against my mouth, and I followed him down, shaking, with his name in my throat.

Afterward he pulled the quilt over us, and we lay there until the fire needed wood.