Featured Author: Becky Wade
For the first Valentine’s Day in forever, Remy had a man in her life. A charming, gorgeous, headstrong man. She was wildly, head-over-heels in love with him. And yet utterly alone on this, the most romantic day of the year.
Which was all her fault.
“Let’s go to Islehaven,” she’d said a week ago to Jeremiah. “It’ll be fun!” she’d said.
A few months had passed since she’d had the chance to travel to her family’s beloved cottage on the tip of Islehaven, the most remote of Maine’s islands. She’d been itching to return here and experience Islehaven’s austere winter beauty. So she’d come. And, as always since they’d become a couple, Jeremiah had come with her. And, as always, her friend Leigh was hosting him in her guest bedroom miles from Remy’s cottage.
The storm that had hit last night after he’d gone to Leigh’s house and she’d crawled into bed here had been far worse than forecasted. Howling wind had shaken her cottage with so much force that three pieces of art had dropped off the wall. Despite the lifeline of flirty, funny texts she’d exchanged with Jeremiah on and off during the turbulent night, sleep had been anxious and scarce.
She’d lived in this cottage alone for six years. She’d weathered storms both literal and metaphorical. Yet maybe because Valentine’s Day was dawning or because having someone in her life who cherished her had softened her by a few degrees . . . she’d felt her aloneness all night long in the chill of the air. Heard it in the mournful gale.
She’d missed Jeremiah.
Daylight had revealed snow hurling horizontally past her windows. She’d spent the morning pleading with God not to sweep her cottage out to sea, dolefully watching a sci-fi movie on her ancient VHS/TV, and deeply regretting the life choice that had landed her and Jeremiah in the center of a blizzard.
Then, all at once, the weather stilled.
She hit pause on the movie and walked to her front window. Bathed in immense silence, she watched the view of the Atlantic gradually clear. She’d never heard true silence until she’d moved to Islehaven. But this was it. A total lack of noise—
A faint hum broke into the quiet. She cocked her head.
The sound increased. She crossed to a side window. Was it . . . a motor? In that instant, a snowmobile leapt over a rise, catching air, and zooming toward her location.
She gasped. Chills flurried down her arms as joy leapt in her chest.
The wool socks she’d donned with her sweater and overalls slipped and slid in her haste to make it back to the picture window next to her door. Soon, Jeremiah climbed onto the deck and came to a stop on the other side of the glass. He was up to his knees in snow, grinning.
“I told you not to come!” she said loudly, aware that her answering grin was stealing the sting from her words. “It’s too dangerous!”
“Aren’t you glad I didn’t listen?” His color was high, his green eyes brilliant against a pearl-gray sky.
“You’re crazy!”
“Crazy about you. So crazy about you, I’ve been working in Leigh’s shed all morning, trying to revive her old snowmobile. Good thing I’m a master mechanic.” He winked. “I was a world champion driver, you know.”
“Were you?” she returned, deadpan. “You don’t say.”
He laughed and went to work shoveling snow. Remy went to work donning snow gear. Often, he paused to glance up at her. Each time, she met his eyes for a long, elated beat. Then he’d shovel. She’d don more gear.
“Ready,” he finally called through the door.
She thrust it open and, with a happy shriek, leapt into his arms. They kissed while he turned them in a slow circle, her warm skin against his cold skin. The feel of his strong hug was gloriously familiar, mind-boggling in the comfort it brought.
“No blizzard could ever keep me away from you.” He gazed down at her tenderly. “You know that, right?”
Tears pricked her eyes. She nodded. “I’m sorry I brought you here and subjected you to that storm.”
“I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world. I’m only sorry that the plane that was supposed to bring my Valentine’s gift won’t have a hope of landing today.”
“You already know that I don’t expect gifts.” She framed his face with her mittens. “This. You. Is way more than I hoped for and all that I want.”
“How about a snowmobile ride to Restoration Point?”
“So long as you promise not to go airborne like I just witnessed from the window.”
Soon they were flying along a magical snowscape, frigid air zinging her cheeks. When they reached their destination, they post-holed through the accumulation for several yards before coming to a stop at the Point. She drank in the splendor. Here sky met ocean met land met God. This had been her favorite spot. Now it was theirs, hers and his.
Two chickadees sailed into view and landed, singing, on a boulder.
The songbirds rested, and the deep silence of earlier found Remy again. Yet the silence was transformed now that it was shared. It coasted over them like a blessing.
Jeremiah tugged off his glove and dipped his fingers into a pocket of his ski jacket. He pulled free a necklace dangling a dainty heart-shaped diamond charm.
Her jaw dropped. She looked from the jewelry to his eyes. “Jeremiah.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Sparklers were going off inside her. “That’s . . . lovely.”
“Surprised?”
“Incredibly. You said my gift wasn’t going to make it here today.”
“Yeah. But you didn’t think I bought just one gift.” His lopsided smile stole her heart. “Did you?”
You can read more about Remy and Jeremiah in Becky’s book, Memory Lane, book 1 in the Sons of Scandal Romance series.
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