Read Online Steady as the Snow Falls by Lindy Zart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lindy Zart
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Beth trailed off, not wanting to ask if she could come along to keep an eye on him. What if he got too cold and couldn’t make it back? What if he fainted? She grabbed the book and turned it over and over, needing to keep her hands occupied. What if something happened to him out there in the middle of nowhere and he was all alone?
Harrison’s expression darkened. “Help yourself to refreshments. If you get hungry, there are snacks in the kitchen.”
Beth held her breath until he walked away, releasing it when he was in the doorway. He paused there, and she stared at the book in her hands, feeling his eyes on her. They were inescapable, prying into her head, accurately reading her. She knew he had some idea as to her thoughts, and he was irritated with her.
“Beth.”
She looked up and turned her head to meet his eyes, an electric shock zipping along her skin as their eyes connected. A muscle throbbed in his jaw, his body taut as his eyes trailed over her face, ended on her chin, and swept back up to her eyes. The look made her breaths uneven and her hands clammy. When Harrison looked at her a certain way, he stripped away everything until all that was left was her truth, hidden deep inside, not meant for anyone but her to know. The truth of her heart, and how it chose to feel, without her consent.
“Don’t act like I’m dying and you’re not. I just have a better idea of when it’s happening to me.”
Beth exhaled noisily when he turned the corner and disappeared, stunned by his words, even if they were true. Her mother always said people began dying the moment they were born, as soon as they took their first breath. She’d found it a morbid observation and tried not to ponder the validity of her words. Her mom might be right, but that didn’t mean Beth wanted to think about how quickly her life could be gone. But Harrison—he thought about it. How could he not?
She poured herself a cup of coffee with hands that shook, pausing as she watched the black brew move from side to side in the cup. Harrison hadn’t touched it yesterday or today. Did he make it specifically for her? And if so, how had he known she liked coffee? Stop it. You’re glamorizing things you should not. It’s coffee. Even if he did make it specifically for you, it means nothing. Except that maybe he isn’t quite as rude as you first thought him to be.
Beth took a sip of her coffee made sweeter and milder with cream and sugar before setting the cup on the window sill near the bench. She was more eager to continue the tale of the motherless boy than she would have guessed. With the accumulating snow to watch, and a book in hand, Beth enjoyed the peaceful scene as she read about a boy who didn’t know how to give up, even when every aspect of his life told him it would be easier to.
Motion outside the window drew her attention to the white hills. Sitting up, Beth moved to her knees and set her elbows on the window ledge, her eyes locked on Harrison’s lean form as he journeyed through the snowy waves, heading toward the hills farther back. He wore a bright orange jacket, and a black stocking cap on his head. The sight of the clashing colors brought a small smile to Beth’s lips. His progress was slow, and he stopped every few feet, but she had to admire the way he kept going.
Chin in hand, Beth observed a sick man wordlessly dare the elements to tell him he was anything but healthy. What lies he must tell himself, his truth clear in the discoloration of his skin, the lines of strain and exhaustion evident in his face. The austerity of his eyes. It was sad, and beautiful, and inspiring, and before she knew it, Beth was on her feet, searching the room for paper and something to write with. She found a napkin near the coffee, and a pen in a drawer of them, and plopped back down on the settee to write.
She wrote about the snow being on all sides of him, and how small he looked against it, even as he fiercely faced it with a challenge
Harrison’s expression darkened. “Help yourself to refreshments. If you get hungry, there are snacks in the kitchen.”
Beth held her breath until he walked away, releasing it when he was in the doorway. He paused there, and she stared at the book in her hands, feeling his eyes on her. They were inescapable, prying into her head, accurately reading her. She knew he had some idea as to her thoughts, and he was irritated with her.
“Beth.”
She looked up and turned her head to meet his eyes, an electric shock zipping along her skin as their eyes connected. A muscle throbbed in his jaw, his body taut as his eyes trailed over her face, ended on her chin, and swept back up to her eyes. The look made her breaths uneven and her hands clammy. When Harrison looked at her a certain way, he stripped away everything until all that was left was her truth, hidden deep inside, not meant for anyone but her to know. The truth of her heart, and how it chose to feel, without her consent.
“Don’t act like I’m dying and you’re not. I just have a better idea of when it’s happening to me.”
Beth exhaled noisily when he turned the corner and disappeared, stunned by his words, even if they were true. Her mother always said people began dying the moment they were born, as soon as they took their first breath. She’d found it a morbid observation and tried not to ponder the validity of her words. Her mom might be right, but that didn’t mean Beth wanted to think about how quickly her life could be gone. But Harrison—he thought about it. How could he not?
She poured herself a cup of coffee with hands that shook, pausing as she watched the black brew move from side to side in the cup. Harrison hadn’t touched it yesterday or today. Did he make it specifically for her? And if so, how had he known she liked coffee? Stop it. You’re glamorizing things you should not. It’s coffee. Even if he did make it specifically for you, it means nothing. Except that maybe he isn’t quite as rude as you first thought him to be.
Beth took a sip of her coffee made sweeter and milder with cream and sugar before setting the cup on the window sill near the bench. She was more eager to continue the tale of the motherless boy than she would have guessed. With the accumulating snow to watch, and a book in hand, Beth enjoyed the peaceful scene as she read about a boy who didn’t know how to give up, even when every aspect of his life told him it would be easier to.
Motion outside the window drew her attention to the white hills. Sitting up, Beth moved to her knees and set her elbows on the window ledge, her eyes locked on Harrison’s lean form as he journeyed through the snowy waves, heading toward the hills farther back. He wore a bright orange jacket, and a black stocking cap on his head. The sight of the clashing colors brought a small smile to Beth’s lips. His progress was slow, and he stopped every few feet, but she had to admire the way he kept going.
Chin in hand, Beth observed a sick man wordlessly dare the elements to tell him he was anything but healthy. What lies he must tell himself, his truth clear in the discoloration of his skin, the lines of strain and exhaustion evident in his face. The austerity of his eyes. It was sad, and beautiful, and inspiring, and before she knew it, Beth was on her feet, searching the room for paper and something to write with. She found a napkin near the coffee, and a pen in a drawer of them, and plopped back down on the settee to write.
She wrote about the snow being on all sides of him, and how small he looked against it, even as he fiercely faced it with a challenge
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