He wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
For a long time, they stood together.
Then she looked toward the old leather glove resting beside the carved picture frame.
Her expression softened.
“Do you ever think about that night?”
He followed her gaze.
“Every day.”
She nodded.
He looked toward her.
“Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if you hadn't opened your door.”
She reached for his hand.
“But I did.”
He smiled.
“Yes.”
She looked toward the fireplace.
“And now we're here.”
He nodded.
He considered the extraordinary path that had brought them together.
A blizzard.
A lost glove.
Nine days of fever.
Four years of loneliness.
A winter delivery of elk meat.
Two simple words.
Please stay.
He looked toward the woman.
Then he smiled.
“Darling?”
She raised her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Can I tell you something?”
She laughed softly.
“Of course.”
He touched her cheek.
“Four winters ago, you saved my life.”
Her expression softened.
He continued.
“But this winter, you gave me a reason to stop hiding from it.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
She leaned closer.
“You gave me something too.”
He looked curious.
“What?”
She smiled through tears.
“For years, I thought the world had no place left for someone like me.”
He shook his head.
She continued.
“I thought my body made every dream too difficult. That loving someone again would only mean watching him leave.”
Her voice trembled.
“Then you came through my door.”
She touched his face.
“And you stayed long enough to let me believe I could be loved exactly as I am.”
The rancher closed his eyes.
He rested his forehead against hers.
“You can.”
She smiled.
“I know that now.”
They kissed once more.
Then he helped her settle comfortably beside the fireplace and sat close enough to hold her hand.
The old glove lay on the mantel.
Beside it stood the carved wooden frame, now holding a small portrait of the two of them together.
The woman in her burgundy dress.
The enormous rancher with his thick beard and scarred hand.
Both smiling.
Neither pretending to be untouched by the past.
Outside, snow began accumulating along the new porch.
The mountains stretched into the distance, beautiful and merciless as they had always been.
The coming winter would bring difficulties.
There would be firewood to cut.
Animals to feed.
Repairs to make.
Days when pain and fatigue demanded patience.
And moments when memories of those they'd lost returned unexpectedly.
But this time, neither would face those moments entirely alone.