Not My Type: Adele Ch. 02

It must have begun snowing shortly after I'd arrived. A generous layer blanketed my car and even the parishioners' footprints had begun to fill up.

Nate continued his tour. "This is the original building, with the exception of the steeple, which was damaged during a hurricane in the 1950's and consequently rebuilt to be a full eight feet taller." He paused while I watched the heavens. Big, fluffy snowflakes settled on my eyelashes and against my skin with tiny little bursts of cold.

"Beautiful," he whispered beside me.

I lowered my chin to meet his gaze. "I love snow when it's like this. It's like a Christmas card." I held out my hand while fluffy flakes drifted onto my brown wool coat. Within the cluster I noticed a few individual flakes with their minute, symmetrical crystallizations. "It is beautiful."

I looked up in time to see an unidentifiable light flicker in Nate's brown eyes. He squeezed my fingers tighter. "I wasn't talking about the snow."

I might have blushed. No, scratch that - I did blush.

What could be more romantic than Nate kissing me right here, right now with the snow falling over us? It was such a magical moment though and I didn't want to ruin it with the inevitable regret on both our parts.

"You were giving me the tour?" I prompted with a smile.

Nate blinked and brought himself back to reality. Unlike the other day at Rhi's though there was no hurt in his eyes, just a little glint of shared chagrin. He swung his hand, with mine clasped in it.

"The manse and the lighthouse are of the same vintage as the church," he explained. We followed the path towards the house nestled between the two tall buildings. Snow swallowed up our footprints as we went.

"Once upon a time the lighthouse keeper would have lived with the Reverend as his family, if he had one, but now everything is all automated, so it's just me and Esther out here."

My head whirled to meet Nate's gaze as we reached the front door of the manse, painted the same sunshine yellow as those at the church.

"Esther?"

Nate grinned and then leaned past me. He threw open the door and gestured me inside. I took a hesitant step over the threshold.

He whistled once, I paused, unsure. Then came the click of toenails against hardwood in a slow, loping gait. Around the corner of a door frame at the end of the hall peaked a blonde head. The golden retriever's soulful brown eyes looked on warily for a moment, but encouraged by Nate's presence at my shoulder, took the last few steps to nestle her muzzle against my outstretched hand.

"I take it this is Esther?" I asked as I crouched down slowly to make friends. She allowed me to stroke her soft head and ears before she looked up at Nate with an intelligent nod. I guess I passed muster.

"Ess, this is Adele. She's staying for lunch."

At the word 'lunch', the retriever's ears perked up. Nate chuckled as we watched Esther amble away, presumably to her food dish. She moved slowly, as if she had difficultly with it.

"How old is she?" I asked as Nate helped me out of my coat. His eyes flickered briefly over my close-fitting cashmere sweater before they met mine. The appraisal was so obvious I should have been offended. Instead, I felt warm all over.

"I actually have no idea, older than twelve I should think. I've been here five years and she came with the house. The last Reverend who lived here moved to Edmonton with his family and they didn't think she'd make the trip. She was before their time and they were here for seven years. I agreed to keep her. She's good company and I've always wanted a dog." Nate's expression softened and it was easy to tell he was attached to his roommate. "I think she's as old as the bible, our Esther."

As if on cue, Esther poked her head out of the last doorway on the left and subjected us to a look of long-suffering impatience.

Nate and I laughed.

"Well, it is lunchtime," I pointed out.

Nate's stomach growled in agreement.

"Didn't you eat breakfast?" I teased as I pulled off my boots.

"Never do before Service." Nate shucked off his own coat and boots and guided me down the hall to where Esther stood in the kitchen doorway. "I preach better on an empty stomach."

The manse kitchen was a large room at the back of the house, with a long bank of windows overlooking the sea. With the snow buffeting the glass the view had become blurred, but I imagined how breathtaking it would be in the summer months. A massive wooden table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by a mismatched jumble of chairs. Typical appliances and cupboards circled the perimeter. In one corner stood an old wood-stove, beside which lay a worn-looking dog bed. Esther issued us another longing look, turned around twice then settled with a 'huff' into her spot by the stove.

Obviously this room was the heart of the house and in the tradition of most east-coast homes, probably always had been. It must have seen its fair share of love and laughter, heartache and grief. It was cozy and I felt instantly at home.

Nate busied himself at the fridge, shooing away my offer for help. I sat at one end of the table and watched him work as he bustled about preparing lunch. He whistled under his breath and whenever I caught his eye, he smiled until his eyes crinkled at the corners. All of this felt so amazingly and happily domestic, I rested my chin in my hands and dreamed.

It could be like this if I let it. He'd welcome me here any time that I wanted. The question was - could I allow myself to want it?

A thunk of plates onto the wooden table roused me out of my daydream in time to watch Nate slide into the chair closest to mine. Our knees bumped beneath the table. The plate he pushed in front of me contained the largest sandwich ever made. My eyes widened.

"What lovely little dreams are you weaving in that beautiful head of yours?" Nate asked as he hefted his own giant sandwich in two hands and took a healthy bite.

"It was nothing." I smiled. "And anyway, how do you know they were lovely dreams?"

Nate cocked his head to one side and studied me. He swallowed, put his sandwich down, and traced a finger over the curve of my cheek to the corner of my lips. His touch burned against my skin. My breath halted.

"Because you smile like that when you think them," he offered. "You know, it's quite cruel to not share with the rest of us. What makes you that happy Adele?"

"You," I whispered without thinking to censor myself. "It's you."

To be continued...