Second Time’s the Charm

Sometimes the trails you ski the most often wind up being the most exciting of all.

Delaney Pearson added a few final items to her travel bag as her husband waited in the car outside. She could feel his impatience and knew without having to see that he was sitting in the car, back rigid, checking and rechecking the time on his latest-model Apple watch and willing himself not to lean on the horn.

A storm was coming. Delaney was well aware. Stephen had been checking weather forecasts for the past fortnight, daily for the past week, and then pretty reliably hourly in the last 36 hours. She didn’t mind that he checked so often. She minded that he felt compelled to report his findings. Every time.

“Storms coming, ‘Laney. We’ll have to hit the road early to beat it.”

Delaney sighed and walked over to the chest of drawers in the front hall. It was a period piece. Mahogany, of course, likely Regency, though one would never know it. Car keys, mail, and sunglasses cluttered the surface, covering the intricate marquetry that had drawn Delaney to it in the antique shop all those years ago. 

She kneeled in front of the chest, tucked an errant lock of brown hair back behind her ear, placed both hands on the worn brass pulls of the stubborn bottom drawer, and yanked hard. Sweeping aside the frayed knit gloves and well-worn hats, she pulled out an oversize white envelope that had arrived in last week’s mail. Unsure what to do with it, she hid it in plain sight, in a drawer that Stephen hadn’t opened in years, if ever. 

She weighed the envelope in her hands. It should have felt heavier, given its contents. But there was nothing to signify its import other than the return address, in tasteful black embossed Roman block letters, of the law firm of Kemper & Cassidy. She wavered, uncertain whether to bring the envelope with her, or wait and spring its contents on her husband when they returned from their trip.

Stephen had been looking forward to this ski trip for months—one full week away to play in the mountains of Vermont, just the two of them. She began to soften. Surely, she could give him this. They’d been married almost 25 years, what was another week? 

She was tucking the envelope back in among the hats and gloves when Stephen honked. One long, loud blast. Delaney checked her non-Apple, non-digital watch. It was just past 8:00. She didn’t deserve that honk, and the neighbors certainly didn’t either. Especially not on a Saturday morning. When he honked a second time, one short blast to make clear that they were now a full seven minutes behind schedule, Delaney grabbed the envelope out of its cocoon, kicked the drawer halfway shut with her foot, and shoved the envelope deep within her travel bag.

* * *

The drive to Warren, Vermont was uneventful, unless you counted Stephen’s twice hourly request for her to update him on the three weather radar apps he kept in constant rotation. She dutifully obliged, while pushing down the itch to open the car door and hurl herself onto Route 89 to escape him.

Poor guy. He hadn’t done anything wrong. They’d met at a high-tech firm–their first jobs out of college—and were married a bit over a year later. In a blink, they’d bought a small house and started a family. It had been a happy whirlwind, which settled into a predictable suburban existence. Delaney had been grateful for all of it—the playdates, the girls’ nights out, the PTO volunteering. She’d worked part-time and Stephen full-time and at the end of every day all four of them gathered around the wooden table in the kitchen and laughed and joked and spoke over each other sharing anecdotes about their day. 

The kids were now off at college on the opposite coast and starting their own lives. That left just herself and Stephen, staring at each other across the kitchen table. For the last year, Delaney had realized that they had nothing left to say to each other. As one kitchen table dinner blurred into the next, a seed was planted. Surely, she was young enough that she could start again. A running commentary began to weave through her days: Once I’m divorced, I’ll . . . She wasn’t clear what she’d do, exactly. Skydive, definitely. Volunteer on the F1 circuit? Possibly. Open a bookstore? Perhaps. The world seemed full of possibilities . . . once she got divorced.

* * *

On the morning of their second day skiing at Sugarbush, Delaney and Stephen found a rhythm. They were up early and caught first chair to the summit. They had their favorite trail—Jester—to themselves most of the way down. Jester was the first trail they’d skied together as an official couple, and it was the trail that had cemented a love of skiing in both of their kids. When the kids had gone off to college, they fought fervently over who would get to take the Jester trail sign that hung in the family room. In the end, Delaney had to special order a second one. 

Delaney smiled at the memory as she matched Stephen’s pace, mimicking his  long, swooping arcs down the mountain. Without having to communicate their intentions, they swooshed into the short line at the base and rode the chairlift up again, sitting comfortably side-by-side, marveling at the way the recent snowstorm capped the evergreen boughs with blankets and, farther up the mountainside, turned each tree into an ice sculpture. 

Just before they reached the summit, Stephen reached out and squeezed Delaney’s hand. She squeezed back. She liked this Stephen. She missed this Stephen. 

* * *

“What’s this?” Stephen asked, holding up the oversized envelope and squinting at the return address.

Delaney’s mouth opened and closed. She immediately thought of three different lies she could tell. But obfuscation had never been her strong suit. She wore her emotions on her face, and Stephen could read her face better than anyone.

Delaney watched him watching her and saw his face go from curiosity to confusion to disbelief and then despair. The transition took no more than ten seconds, but in that time her heart shattered. This was not the way she’d wanted him to find out. And not today, of all days, when they’d had such a lovely time on the mountain and Stephen hadn’t checked his weather apps once.

But now that he knew, she had to make him understand, to help him see that even though she loved him, their marriage had run its course. It was time for them to go on to new adventures, and possibly on to new people. She absolutely, positively, had to get him to understand this. But he was already gone. Without saying a word, he had grabbed his coat and stormed out the door, not bothering to shut it behind him.

* * *

Delaney ran after Stephen, went into the hall and out the front door and called his name. But he was nowhere to be seen. She pulled her sweater tight against the cold and the wind and went back inside to wait. One hour later Stephen was not back, and the wind had picked up. The storm windows rattled against their frames and sleet bounced against the glass. How could he of the three weather apps not have known that a storm was coming?

Barely able to keep panic at bay, Delaney dialed 9-1-1 with shaky fingers. As she suffered the indignity of being put on hold, she paced the room. What if Stephen got lost? Did he have his inhaler? Did he even bring a hat? She’d never forgive herself if something happened to him. Yes, she wanted to be free of Stephen as her husband, but not free of him from her life. She went to the window and pressed her face against her glass. All she could see was her own frightened reflection staring back at her.

The 9-1-1 operator finally came on the line and after listening to her blurted-out tale, promised to send ski patrol out to search. 

Delaney hung up the phone. Now what? She couldn’t stay in the warm house while he was out there in the cold and dark. She found a flashlight in the laundry room, bundled up in as many layers as she could squeeze into, and headed out into what had become a full-fledged storm.

“Stephen! Stephen!” The wind whipped her voice right back at her. She called until she was hoarse, running through the blinding snow in the hopes that she’d intuitively head in the right direction.

Despite her many layers, the deep snow found its way under her pants and over the tops of her boots. She kept going, battling to keep her footing. Just as she began to despair, her flashlight picked up what could be footprints trailing off in the direction of the lodge. She turned to follow them, but the wind blew away the prints and she was half blind from the snow. Clambering over a fallen log, she caught her ankle and went down hard.

* * *

Delaney awakened to a pinprick of bright light in her eyes. A woman in a white smock looked down at her.

“Glad to see you’re back,” she said with a reassuring smile.

Back from what? Where am I?

A man stepped forward, dressed in winter gear and a reflective vest. Ski patrol.

“We went out looking for a man reported to be lost in the snow. We found him. And then we found you. It was a two-for-one.” He smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth. “You were within ten feet of each other,” he added.

“Ten feet?” Delaney asked. “How could we be so close and not see each other?”

Her voice was gravely, a whisper, raw and hoarse.

“I thought I heard you, but I figured I was dreaming. I knew there was no way you’d come looking for me. Besides, I was already on my way back.”

Delaney startled to hear her husband’s voice. She tried to sit up but a shot of pain through her temples propelled her back.

“Easy,” the nurse admonished. “You had quite a hit to your head. You’re a few days from getting up.”

Delaney turned to look at Stephen in the bed beside her, just a few feet away. His fingers were bandaged but otherwise he looked fine. She reached her hand to him, but he refused to take it. 

She couldn’t blame him. She wanted to take everything back. To tell him that out there in the snow, with the wind howling and the snow swirling her blind, she’d finally been able to see. But he clearly was in no mood to listen. He turned away and when he did, a part of her broke.

She reached for the ring on her ring finger, just as she’d done thousands of times over the course of their marriage. The ring had become a touchstone, and she’d spin the ring around her finger as she worked through some worry or anxiety. 

Except there was no ring on her finger. 

She gasped, and the attending nurse turned to her, on high alert.

“My ring,” Delaney exclaimed. “It’s gone. I never take it off.” She was distraught, and struggled to get out of bed before the painful reminder that she was in no condition to do so.

The nurse looked over Delaney’s file. Clothes or any items taken off of a patient would be noted in there. She reviewed the list. “Ah. Says here that when you came in you were only wearing one glove. I’m sorry to say but your other glove and possibly your ring are out there somewhere, buried under a lot of snow. With any luck, it will surface in spring.”

Delaney was struck mute. She managed a nod and made no attempt to fight back the tears coursing down her cheeks. 

* * *

Millicent Rogers paced behind the desk of the Sugarbush Ski Resort Lost & Found. When she wasn’t pacing, she went to the bins and refolded the scarves and sorted the single mittens by color. When there was nothing left to do and her anxiety began to get the better of her, she called out: “I’m going on a reconnoiter.”

Ben, a member of the ski patrol enjoying a second cup of coffee at the desk in the back of the room, raised his mug in salute.

It was not quite 10:00. The lifts hadn’t even been open an hour, but when Millicent got tingles in her scalp, she knew she had to be out skiing the trails and finding whatever it was that was calling to her to be found.

She rode the Gatehouse lift and glided down Pushover and retrieved a bent ski pole and then rode the lift back up and turned down Sleeper, carving long looping S-turns through the widely spaced trees and pausing, as she always did, to take in the view where the trail opened up to reveal the valley below. Close to the bottom of the trail, she dutifully picked up a pair of goggles, but she knew that wasn’t the find she was looking for. On Spring Fling, where the ski trail came close to the mountainside condos, she spotted a bright purple mitten. Her heart did a little flutter and her skin tingled—unmistakable signs that she’d found what needed to be found that day.

Zipping the mitten into her ski jacket, she looped the goggles over her wrist, held the bent ski pole under her arm, and returned to the lodge and clicked out of her skis. There was a lightness in her step as she headed back to the glorified utility closet that did double duty as her office and the Lost & Found room. The space was humble and tiny, but it was where Millicent reigned and where she liked to think she brought joy to people—reuniting objects with their owners and, on special days, reuniting couples who, whether from carelessness or lack of attention, had lost their way.

Millicent dropped the bent ski pole into the trash, placed the goggles in the bin under the table, and held the glove, not ready to add it to the bin with the other single gloves and mittens.

What was it about this glove that was speaking to her? It was just like any other ski glove. Purple, with thick padding for warmth and a hook to attach it to its mate. She stood, holding the glove in one hand and then the other, willing it to speak to her. She placed her hand inside, tentatively, and her fingers touched on something decidedly un-glove like. She pulled out a dainty platinum wedding ring, encircled with small diamonds.

“Ah ha,” she said aloud.

“Find something interesting, Millie,” Ben asked from the back. He’d been around long enough to know that when Millicent exclaimed over some find, the day was about to get interesting.

Millicent walked over to him and held up the ring for inspection. 

Ben took the ring from her and looked at the glove she held in her other hand. He told her about the rescue the previous night, the way he and his partner had gone out looking for one person and had found two. 

“I can’t be positive, but I’m pretty sure the woman we rescued was missing
a glove.”

Millicent shrieked. Yes! She knew it. And now she knew exactly where she needed to go. Ben jumped up to follow as she headed out the door toward Three Peaks Medical Clinic across the courtyard.

* * *

“Do you know you guys were only feet away from each other when we found you?” Ben said as he reached a hand out to Stephen in greeting.

Stephen offered an anemic “So you said” in response.

Ben wouldn’t let it go. “It’s stunning that you didn’t hear each other. Just speaks to the power of the storm, I guess.”

Delaney offered a weak smile. She’d improved over the last few hours and was now able to sit up with the support of multiple pillows tucked all around to keep her upright.

The day passed in a blur of fitful naps and doctors and nurses coming in to shine lights in her eyes. Stephen spoke little to her throughout the day, and when he did, it was in monosyllables. 

That  night, when they had respite from nurses and doctors coming to check on them, she poured her heart out to him. In between beeps and alerts coming from their monitors and the nurses’ station down the hall, Delaney spoke into the darkness and told Stephen everything—how she’d felt so lost after the kids had left. How it felt like the two of them didn’t have anything in common anymore, and how she’d come to dread the silence at the nightly dinner table. She’d thought she wanted more, until she thought she’d lost him and realized that “more” would be meaningless without being able to share it with him.

She spoke without stopping, afraid that if she stopped or even slowed, she’d start to edit her words. If their marriage was going to end, at least it was going to end with complete honesty.

Stephen never responded, and she wasn’t entirely sure that he was awake. Until, when she was out of words and full of sobs, she asked, “Did you hear anything I said?”

Silence filled the air and Delaney didn’t breathe. But then Stephen turned to face her. 

“I heard you,” was all he said before turning his back to her once again.

When she awoke the next morning, Stephen’s bed was empty, and his machines turned off. Gingerly, she raised herself up on her elbows and with some effort was able to sit up. Out of habit, her right hand went to her ring finger to fiddle with a ring that was no longer there.

Just then, a nurse breezed through the door with a sunny smile.

“You have visitors,” she winked.

Behind the nurse was Stephen. It was shocking to see him in a wheelchair, but his color was good, and he looked strong. 

Behind him were two strangers, both grinning like Cheshire cats.

Delaney raised her eyebrows, unsure what was happening.

Stephen wheeled himself over to her. That alone was enough to make her cry.

He introduced Millicent and Ben, and after giving Delaney time to thank Ben for her rescue, he leaned forward to whisper.

“I did hear you last night. And I have some things I’d like to say, too, though this is not the place. But there is one thing I’d like to ask.”

As if on signal, Ben moved next to Stephen and helped to lift him out of the wheelchair and into a kneeling position on the floor.

Before Delaney had time to protest, Stephen took her hand in his. “What I want to ask you is this: Delaney Pearson, will you marry me . . . again?” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring Millicent had given him when they’d met at the nurses’ station. That was when he’d learned about the rescue and how distraught Delaney had been when she called for help.

Stephen, too, had had a difficult night. After Delaney poured her heart out to him, he spent hours reviewing what she’d said and taking a hard look at his role in the stagnation of their marriage. He’d allowed himself to get too comfortable, too set in his ways, sticking to schedules and not allowing for the spontaneity and adventure that he knew Delaney craved. Well, they’d both had their wake-up calls, and he knew how fortunate they were to have been given another chance.

“My ring!” were the first words out of Delaney’s mouth. And then, “Oh no. I mean, yes. Yes, I will marry you again Stephen.”

They hugged and kissed as best as they were able given their temporary limitations.

Delaney held out her left hand, admiring the sparkling band as though wearing it for the first time. Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she took the ring off.

Stephen’s smile drooped.

“Yes, I’ll marry you on one condition,” Delaney said.

“And what would that be?” Stephen asked, caution in his voice.

“Yes, on the condition that we go skydiving together.”

Stephen laughed with relief.

“Deal,” he said. 

And with that, their 25-year marriage began anew.

Note to the reader: If you’d like to read another short story featuring Millicent’s uncanny matchmaking abilities, click here.