Snow Drop

That was the symptom of his greatest disease -- distrust. Brendan never believed he deserved Julie so he always doubted that she was faithful to him. He didn't believe she was talking to her family, so he would check her phone when she ducked into the bathroom -- then eventually, right in front of her. During one of the worst of their fights, he started questioning Julie about all the contacts on her phone, calling them one by one to see if they were who she really had them listed as. After that fight, Julie went to stay with a friend for a weekend until Brendan showed up with a bouquet of her favorite flowers and an apology on his lips. But never in his heart.

Things went from bad to worse until the day of "the" fight. It was his mother who described his temper like thunder. Sometimes a dull rumble you could hear coming, sometimes a sharp, explosive sound that nearly knocked you over. It was as perfect a description as any.

They were building towards something ugly for a few weeks. Brendan was stressed at work. He was up for a full-fledged executive position soon, which would mean a massive jump in salary and far more responsibility. He thought he deserved it, but management was looking more and more likely to pick one of the other two people up for the position. Brendan pissed and moaned that hiring one of the other two would be racially motivated, since one was a black woman and the other a Latino man. Julie vehemently disagreed and reminded him that up to that point, Alejandro had been a fantasy football buddy and a guy Brendan had drinks with on more than a few occasions.

That led to a blowout fight where Brendan accused her of taking their sides. Julie told him, no, she wanted him to get the promotion, but not if it meant him becoming a conspiracist who knew in his heart both the other picks had seniority and as much of a right to the job as him, no matter the color of their skin. But that wasn't the end-all be-all fight. That was just the warm-up. For weeks they stewed about it, Julie trying to avoid the topic, Brendan unable to stop bitching about it every single night.

The real fight mixed Brendan's paranoia with his work stress. When Julie came home from a particularly exhausting shift, the house reeked of her favorite perfume, something she only got to wear away from the hospital since her work asked she not wear any strong scents.

Brendan sprayed every room, every surface he could, and the odor was so strong it nearly made her gag. He was not drunk. He was not on any drugs. This was him, as naked in his rage as he'd ever been. With a voice devoid of emotion, he asked her what she was doing at his office that afternoon. Julie, so tired she was ready to drop, couldn't fathom what he asked her, and started opening windows. He stalked her through the house, asking her again and again despite her assurances she had been working, as she always was when he felt this urge to know where she was at any given moment.

He told her with icy, clipped words he smelled her perfume in the hallway at work. Julie sat down, dug out her phone, and showed him mutely the perfume's Amazon page. It was the seventh top seller. He probably did smell her perfume, but it wasn't her and he should have known that. That set him off. For an hour and a half he screamed at her at the top of his lungs, leaving her in tears. In the middle of the fight he started flinging things around. Plates. Cups. Another one of her bottles of perfume as he screamed at her that he knew she was a whore. Julie snatched up her car keys, and he grabbed her arm, his fist raised. She would remember that moment for the rest of her life. Brendan was not a fighter, but he was a good-sized man. She was strong but she had little doubt he would beat her bloody if he wanted to. The only thing that saved her from it, she thought, was Brendan himself. His eyes went huge and his fist dropped. He started wheezing her name, but Julie was already moving, running, snatching up her purse. He tried to follow her but she was too fast and slammed the locks into place in her crossover before he could pry the door open and drag her out.

Julie lived through a lot of scary moments in her life. A lot of them stemmed from her dad's job and the late nights he had to work, the times he got called out to deal with a violent offender, the horrific morning when some tweaker stabbed him and he nearly bled out. Some of them stemmed from her patients, some of whom would get violent.

But never in her life would she be as terrified as that moment when Brendan nearly hit her. It haunted her dreams, made her cry out in her sleep. She would sometimes get the damnedest feeling he was in a room with her, even when she knew the locks were thrown and she was alone.

Her husband did that to her. Not a stranger. The man she loved.

And now she was faced with a future of uncertainty. Of rebuilding and regrowth. It was strange, but despite the horrific road she took to get there, Julie almost anticipated it. It would be good to go home again. Maybe for a few months, maybe a few years, maybe forever. It would be good to have her mother there to give her hugs when she needed comforting and her father's steel backbone when she needed his strength. It would be good to have her brother and his family around to cheer her up even when Mickey could drive her crazy.

Home again, home again, she thought, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The morning brought with it gray skies, but no hint of the previous day's snowpocalypse. Julie checked out of the hotel early but didn't hit the road until well past nine. She wanted to give the plows plenty of time to do their business and make sure things were safe. After a long, luxuriously decadent breakfast and two readthroughs of a local paper, she finally hit the road, buzzing with trepidation and warm energy.

Her parents had once liked Brendan, back in his affable, goofy days, but as their daughter soured on her husband, so did they. Julie didn't fear their reaction -- her mother went through a painful divorce when she was just nineteen so they commiserated often -- but she did feel a curious sense of frustrated failure that her marriage didn't work. She didn't regret leaving Brendan. Fuck him. But she did regret that she didn't get it right, even as Julie knew she made no real wrong decisions, save maybe for not leaving Brendan earlier.

She believed so strongly in love and romance and all that silliness, even now. Since the separation, there had been a few dates, all with pleasant enough guys. She thought there might have even been a spark with one of them, a coworker going through a divorce like her, but he ultimately decided to reconcile with his wife and that was that. For a long time, with Brendan, Julie was so focused on her career, paying down her debt, and beginning the search for a house or a condo that she didn't give much thought to children. Now, though, she began to wonder if she wanted children, and the strange thing was, the return to Pike Bridge brought about a quietly firm answer in her mind. Yes. With her family around, in a small community where she knew the best daycare, the best (and only) school, and the ideal places to live, a small portion of the stress of motherhood could be assuaged.

But that was definitely a "later" idea, one she would explore when she settled in again. For now, at least, Julie warmed to the idea of going home again to her parents' house, to her old bedroom. She looked forward to the minefield of hosting Thanksgiving with all their family and friends, and dropping in on the town's Snow Drop. She wished she could have made it to the Fall Festival, but from what her mom said, it wound up being a pale shadow of its usual self. The Chamber of Commerce was already talking about a redo in the spring, most likely over Easter.

And speaking of her parents, Julie saw a familiar SUV parked on a wide turnout. She laughed delightedly as the police lights started up. Her father waited until she passed by, then roared out onto the road behind her, catching up and then passing her on the highway. Fifteen miles he led her like that, lights, blazing. It was probably against so many county codes, but Lester Fisher was nothing if not beloved in his county. Well, excepting some of the people he had to deal with, of course, but anyone worth their salt in an honest, good life loved the man.

Of course, Julie was slightly biased.

Out of the mountain pass they came, and the sight of both the actual Pike Bridge and the town named after it brought warm, happy tears to Julie's eyes. She didn't hate the place as a youth, not exactly, but like most people her age, she yearned to escape from it, to explore the world. Now she wanted nothing else but to be nested in its coziness, in the sleepy aged beauty.

It was not a town without imperfections. Many of the buildings lining Main Street were in dire need of repairs the owners simply couldn't afford. Some of the paved roads needed maintenance, something a slow influx of wealthier residents was helping with but it was a slow procedure. Most glaring of all was the backbone of the city, a cannery that produced wet cat food. The place was an eyesore but it was the economic tentpole to the area for the last fifty years.

The beauty far outweighed those problems. The Snow Drop meant the town was regularly listed in travel guides' top Christmas towns to visit, and Pike Bridge began slowly changing to accommodate that. Outdated sidewalk lights were replaced with ornate modern globes, giving Main Street a distinct beauty at night. Two gift shops dedicated to local crafts and Christmas items did a fair bit of business year-round.

Of course, that wasn't the only draw. Pike River lazily snaked through the canyons, a wide, shallow body of water often so low during the hottest summers you could clearly see its bottom. The town saw some summer traffic from fly fishermen and campers heading to the mountains, but nothing quite like that early December rush. In February, ice hockey was the town staple, with a local league and a modest prize purse. Gus Behrs, a local big landowner, recently divvied up part of his property for a push at growing a pumpkin patch and installing a corn maze, something Julie was disappointed she hadn't seen but looked forward to the next year.

Some of the locals grumbled about the loss of the Americana feel as the town slowly grew, but no one could deny the economic bump was sorely needed.

Lester shut off his lights as they neared the edge of town. Julie laughed delightedly when she saw two more vehicles waiting for her along another turnoff. Her older brother Mickey's old beater of a truck slid in behind her, and her mom followed along, tooting her horn merrily. Julie honked back, and her dad joined in. Several drivers going the other way stared at their makeshift parade, and Mrs. Turley even turned around to join in, honking along like she was part of the gang. That attracted another couple cars at an intersection, and soon they had a mechanical conga line, making Julie's heart swell to bursting.

Her dad led the charge to their house, and the Fishers parked in the driveway and out on the street. Julie hopped out fast and waved at their townsfolk followers, and got one last round of honks as a response. Then her dad was there, and her mom, and Mickey too, and Julie laughed and cried and buried herself in the midst of their comfort.

"You guys are crazy," she croaked finally when she could speak again.

"We inherited it from you," Mickey said.

She punched his shoulder. "But you're the older one."

"Yeah, well, you're infectious, aren't you, brat?" he asked, grinning. "I gotta run back to the grocery store. See you tonight for dinner?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Are Shannon and the kids around? I might drop in and say hi."

"Don't. I want them to be surprised tonight."

"Perfect. See you, butthole."

"Yeah, love you too," Mickey said. He gave her one last hug, and headed out with one final honk.

Julie turned to her parents, her fingers at her sides, crushing the fabric of her sweater. She couldn't look straight at them for fear of losing her shit entirely, and instead focused on the space between them. "I know you probably need to get back to it, Dad."

"I have time to help you bring your things in, Jules," he said softly. "Baby, I..."

Julie melted. The tears she leaked since she saw Pike Bridge became a flood. Her parents rushed to her, holding her upright, hugging her, rubbing her back. She clung to them and cried so hard it left her dizzy. Next thing Julie knew her mother was guiding her into the house, an arm around her waist, whispering kind words to her, sweet nothings like "glad you're home" and "with us now."

All the heartache Julie hadn't allowed herself to feel thundered in in those minutes. She was guided down to her parents' couch, a thin wrap draped around her. Her father held her hand for a minute before hurrying out to begin bringing her things in. He was always like that when there were emotions involved, needing to stay busy, stay focused. It was part of what made him a great sheriff, that ability to funnel his feelings into something productive. Julie inherited that from him. She tried to rise to help, but her mom tugged her right back into place.

"You're sitting right here, I'm making you a cup of coffee or tea, and we're just going to breathe for a while," Karen said, her own smile broken in its own way. She had been through this once herself, with a mean drunk of a husband.

"I thought I had... all this out of me," Julie said, her words coming hard. "I... I... I... thought after we separated I had a good handle on it, that I was going to not get this emotional, but oh my God, it's being home again and just seeing you guys and..."

Karen hugged her tight again and rocked with her.

* * *

One of the few places Colin found refuge in the nightmare years was the town's small gym. He would pop in weekdays during the slowest hours and work out a solid hour at the minimum, jogging on the treadmills or lifting weights. He found solace in the mindlessness of the tasks, and the physical high helped pierce his fugue. He was never really out of shape to begin with, but now he looked, even to his harshly critical self, like a slab of muscles.

It was a small mark of pride, and it provided him with a certain desirability. His harsh face left him not quite handsome, but to a certain type of woman, that added to the allure of him.

In many of Silje's clearer self-reflective moments, she made Colin promise he would date again if and when she died. He used to tell her she would be able to fight the depression, but that was before her body started betraying her too. Eventually, her pleas became desperate. She needed to know he would be okay after she was gone, and a deeply frightened Colin finally agreed, and again and again when her mind slipped and she couldn't remember having had the conversation.

There were a couple years after her death when he just couldn't, promise or no promise. He sated himself with old pictures of the two of them in better times. Silje in the lingerie she picked out for their wedding night. Silje in a one-piece, seated on the concrete lip of a pool, her thick bottom spread deliciously wide. A very private selection he kept on a flash drive locked away, their most intimate photos. Her lips wrapped around his cock, one of her hands stroking his base. Silje riding him, one hand on her long blonde hair, the other underneath her small breasts. Silje with her makeup smeared, his come drizzling down her face.

Those last ones hurt a ton. In sex, when Silje's fight was largely with her depression, she found something of a release. Same with her writing, at least occasionally. But as time wore on, those highs became harder to chase, especially with new medications or new afflictions striking Silje left and right. Eventually sex fell by the wayside as they focused on her health. Silje's apologies somehow made all of it more real. She was quick to apologize if they got into a fight -- and oh Lord, was the makeup sex something else with her fire -- but when it came to her body and her mind, she rarely did until she would start to stroke him, lose interest, and cry because she loved him so much she thought she was hurting him.

Oh God, to have her back for one night. That was his thought for a long while, and he wanted only her, his lost love. Not even for the sex, just to hold her, just to feel her in his arms again. In the most powerful of his dreams, she was there, wrapped up in him. "My big bear," she would murmur, and snuggle in tighter against him.

For her, Colin started dating again eventually. Every single time, his dates came from the gym. It was his one limited social interaction of note, but it also was impossible for most the women who came through there not to notice his ripped physique or the way he handled the weights like they weighed nothing.

None of the earliest dates went anywhere. He dined with them at Meala Culpa, the town's arguably best restaurant. He smiled at their stories and their jokes, drank a single solitary beer, and walked them to their cars, his promise to Silje fulfilled.

But eventually Colin confronted the truth within himself, that he was only acknowledging the wording of the agreement, not its spirit. One day, when the shy date he was with invited him back to her place, he accepted, though he warned her he was not after a relationship or even a second date. She was okay with that, and explained with some red-faced hesitancy that was what she wanted too. He took her to her place, ate her to a quick, gasping climax, then fucked her from behind, mechanically but dutifully giving her a second and a third orgasm. He couldn't look her in the eyes. Couldn't take seeing another woman's face other than Silje's. If Colin came, he didn't remember it afterwards. It didn't really matter.

There was an odd string of dates like that, women who approached him for a nice evening and a quick hard fuck afterwards. Even weirder, that was all they wanted, something he was fine with but which baffled him. He finally learned the truth of it from Maria, the fourth woman he saw, a single mom who had been a few grades above him back in high school. After their sweaty, intense hookup, his curiosity finally got the best of him and he asked her, point-blank, if there was some cabal of single women who were using him as a sexual scratching post.

Maria laughed. "A cabal. I like that. Yeaaah, I guess there kind of is."

She explained Silje used to be quite vocal in high school and beyond about both Colin's skill and size. Curiosity and his widower status stirred up some renewed interest in finding out if Silje was putting them on until they finally managed to land him. Colin roared with laughter at that, and told his satisfied date any time they needed to take the itch off to come talk to him, so long as they were all okay with an understanding there would be no relationship.

Silje, still and forever looking out for him long after she was gone.

His trips to the gym became something more themselves when Jill, the owner, ran short on staff and Colin volunteered to help out for an afternoon. That turned into a conversation about putting him on the payroll since he was there more often than half her employees. He didn't really need the money -- Silje took care of him in that regard too -- but the extra income was nice and it gave him something to do. So slowly, Colin reentered the working world, and his hookups became an infrequent thing.

Now, he rested on his back on a bench in the women's locker room, his shorts around his knees. Slim Allison Harwood rode him, her motherly breasts bobbing with each bounce. There was little chance of discovery. Anyone who came in through the doors would have to go through a reception point with a secondary locked door only accessible by a gym card. Since they were the only ones in the gym at the moment, they could fool around.