“Where are you going tonight? Anywhere special?” my mother asked.
“Jack’s taking me by helicopter to a restaurant, and to see the areas of Montana I missed from the ground,” I answered.
“Well, that sounds exciting. I’ll expect an update tomorrow.” My mother kissed me on the forehead.
“I am going to miss you, Mom.”
“I won’t be far, honey. I’ll be an airplane ride away,” she said. “Lucky we know a pilot.”
Examining my reflection, I realized I chose the dress I wore the first time I met Jack. I smiled, remembering the dinner we shared. That woman wasn’t here anymore. I didn’t need a designer outfit to define my worth.
When Thomas left, he told me I had a choice: to be happy or miserable. I knew he would be pleased to see I had chosen to be happy. Finally ready, I went
downstairs to where Jack was waiting for me. No matter how many times I saw
him, my heart always skipped a beat.
“You look beautiful.” His voice was husky and seductive.
“And, you’re as handsome as usual,” I said softly.
Smiling, he said, “Are you ready?”
“I am. Am I overdressed?” I asked nervously.
“You look perfect.”
“This will be my first helicopter ride. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t. So, I’ll have to make it special.”
“You being there makes it special enough, Jack.”
My nerves settled as the helicopter lifted. I felt safe with Jack as he flew us
above a range of mountains that seemed endless. When we reached a flat area on
the top of the mountain, he hovered over a log cabin.
“This was my father’s cabin. I would love to show you his favorite
hideaway,” Jack explained.
“I would love to see it,” I said.
Jack lowered the helicopter. When it touched the ground, we waited in silence as the blades slowed, and then went still.
“Will we miss our reservation?” I hesitated.
“No, I accounted for stopping here.”
The cabin was nothing spectacular. It looked like the kind of hunting lodge
you would see in movies. On the porch, there was a wooden bench with Her passions are made of nothing, but the finest part of pure love carved on the seat.
“Your father did love Shakespeare. This was from Antony and Cleopatra.” I
traced the words, taking in the romance of them.
“Did you hear that?” Jack frowned and looked towards the door. “Stay here.
I need to check it out.”
“Shouldn’t I come with you?”
“No, it might be a raccoon. I’ll check and come back for you,” Jack said, mumbling about the pain in the ass rodents.
Sitting on the bench, I stared into the snowy distance. “Jack, I’m getting cold,” I called.
Not hearing an answer, I decided to find him. I slowly opened the door, expecting the worst. Instead of a destroyed cabin, there was a row of tea lights
lining the floor. I followed the trail to a heart made from more candles. Standing next to a candlelit table, Jack beamed at me. He was holding a bouquet of flowers. Not roses, but gorgeous, meaningful daisies.
He held out the flowers and kissed me gently on the cheek, then pulled out a
chair. My place setting had a bowl of red soup with a white heart made from cream. Popping the cork on a champagne bottle, he poured me a glass, and then
one for himself.
