The Strongest Force

The Strongest Force 

    Shivering against an icy breeze stippling her skin with goosebumps, Joanna Wilson rewrapped her slender neck in her favorite red knit scarf. She usually avoided walks in temperatures below 30 degrees, but she needed a respite from home. The frigid air allowed her to breathe again, dialing down the boiling below the surface of her consciousness to restore peace within her. Remaining in the presence of Pauline, demanding she shop for additional items for dinner and giving unsolicited advice about her relationship, threatened to drive Joanna to act regrettably towards her mother. She would have preferred to spend the holidays holed up at her apartment until school restarted, but her father insisted that she stay for the week, the end of which could not arrive soon enough. So, tossing her irritations and anxieties to the wind, braving today’s cold morning was Joanna’s coping method. 

    Joanna really loved everything about Winter, including seasonal celebrations, cheerful decorations, and decadent dishes, though she enjoyed Christmas Eve and Thanksgiving equally.  She cherished time with her father and older brother, Daniel, watching bowl games and competing in epic board game matches. Her favorite holiday happened when she was 7, during the Christmas Eve snowfall, a rare event in southeast Texas. The siblings built an adorable snowman, and Joanna loved the loose, powdery feel of snow crystals dappling delicious, frosty bits onto her nose and lips, like stardust drifting from the ether on a wintry afternoon. She didn’t care about her wrinkled caramel fingertips, pink and numb through her soggy mittens. Her parents' ensuing argument remained a vivid memory, her mother livid that she’d been allowed to play outside for “longer than necessary”. Pauline always found a reason for anger about almost everything Joanna did and failed to do to her exacting standards and expectations. 

   Sliding her chirping phone from her pocket, Joanna pressed the red button once the caller’s name appeared, hoping her father would answer and relay her mother’s messages when she phoned later. Instead, Joanna charged up the hill, a gust applying a whispering chill to her exposed lips and cheeks. Her pedometer showed her distance as more than three miles, and she paused to watch a stunning sunrise, reminiscent of a Dreamsicle she ate as a child, creamy layers of orange and white suspended in a cyan sky, the color of his amazing blue eyes in which she often drowned.  She wondered whether he was awake this early. Pausing to scroll through her contacts, she leaned against a bench along the path and stretched her tight hamstrings as she punched out a text: Wish you were here 🌅🎄❣️.

    Crossing the bridge, Joanna ignored the next chirp, dreading her mother’s probable demand to know why she hadn’t returned for breakfast, despite Joanna having cooked the meal every morning of her stay.  No, she’d call when she reached five miles, sometime in the next 15 minutes. The sun shone higher, indicating the 8:00 am hour approached. Five miles in 90 minutes wasn’t great, but it was more than she’d done in several weeks, limited to weekend walks until the break began. When the tone sounded again, Joanna stopped to answer her call.

  “Good morning, Jo. Why are you screening so early in the day?” Her heart skipped a few beats as if she were sprinting at the sound of her love’s huskier pre-coffee voice.

  “Michael,” Joanna whispered, struggling to ignore the warm rush prickling her skin.

  “Joanna, where are you?”

  “I’m a little beyond the bridge about 5 miles from my parent’s. I didn’t mean to wake you,” A grin spread across her papery, windburned lips.  

  “You didn’t wake me. I missed you here.”

   “I couldn’t sleep, I missed you, too.” Joanna closed her eyes, willing her pulse to slow.

   “What are you wearing, Jo?”

   “My black hoodie, the red scarf you bought, and my gray pants. Why?”

   “OK.” Did Michael actually end the call? Her finger hovered about Michael’s name when she heard the footsteps and turned to look over her shoulder, gasping when he arrived at her side.

  “Hey.” Michael said, reaching for her hand before her phone hit the pavement. “Don’t drop it. Let’s get out of the cold,” Michael whispered, his lips pressed to her cheek.

  “I’m OK, but yeah, we can go.” She released him to stretch her calf, and Michael grasped her elbow.

  “How far this morning?” Michael asked, squeezing her wrist. Thoughts of another mile dissipated, as shivered under his fingertips.

  “Almost five miles. I had to get out of there before I- ”

  Michael chuckled. “Pauline woke up with a list of demands?” 

  Joanna nodded. “Well, any chance we can sneak you back to get your stuff? We can make it home before noon if we leave soon.”

  “I didn’t answer you at first because, yes, I assumed she was calling.”  She followed him to sit on the bench, and Michael pulled her to his chest. 

  “How about we drive you home, have breakfast with them, and spend the morning together? I’m not looking to stay and have a repeat of Thanksgiving, but I’ll keep you company, if you need me,” Michael kissed the shell of her ear, another welcome burst of heat coursing through her.

 “Sounds like a plan. I really want to celebrate with Dad and Danny, but you know, you and me together would be the perfect holiday,” Joanna said. 

 The temperature seemed to have climbed a bit, not only because her favorite person in the world embraced her. The idea of steaming drinks in front of the fireplace at his house thrilled Joanna. She liked her mother’s large, elaborate meals, but this year, Joanna had the best reason to miss it. When they crossed paths in their graduate school class in late January, Joanna acknowledged and spoke to the gorgeous guy sitting beside her. Michael appeared at her side during their breaks, attempting to engage her in small talk about class at the end of the evening.  When Michael offered to accompany her to her car the third time, Joanna agreed, talking the entire way and another two hours at the coffee shop across from campus, even though they both worked the next morning. She tried to ignore the swirling butterflies inside her when she saw Michael on those Thursday nights, guessing he’d never want to see her outside of their class.  When he asked Joanna to celebrate his birthday with his friends in early April, less than a week before her own, Joanna found herself saying “yes”  to Michael, a trend that continued into the ensuing summer. August found them closer than ever, when the drumbeat of desire when he kissed her became a feeling she treasured. Though it was her idea to introduce Michael to her family after less than a year, Joanna knew she owed Danny for saving Thanksgiving dinner from disaster, embracing Michael and putting him at ease.  Her mother’s chilly reserve and misgivings about their relationship set Joanna on edge, rage bubbling up into an irritation that threatened their peace.

 “I know you’re thinking about it. I don’t mind, Jo, your mother isn’t terrible. She made you. Of course, I like her, “ Michael said.

 “I hated all those questions, implying you’re not good enough.”

  Michael sighed. “And yet, we survived. The food was great, though I’m still a bit salty about you holding out on me that way.”

  The corners of her lips curved upward into a smile she wished to hide. “You didn’t need to know.”

   He was shaking his head. “All this time, ordering takeout for us, those soups you bought, pretending you don’t know how to cook.” 

  “I don’t really.”

  “Liar. Everything was incredible, Jo. Those veggies tasted so good, especially the Brussels sprouts, which I hate. Another hidden talent I wish would emerge. ”  Michael clasped Joanna’s hand, heat radiating through her, the bitter cold now a distant memory.

 “Well, she’s insisted on doing this dinner, and she’ll compare everything I made to what she’s doing. I really would rather go home, let’s just go now. I’ll make you whatever you want when we get back, promise.”

  Joanna gazed out the window, noticing a family with kids piled in a wagon, the father grasping a dog’s lease, traversing the sidewalk. They looked adorable, bundled in bubble jackets and matching red and green knit hats and scarves.  

  “So, how would you feel if our daughter did the same thing?”

   Joanna turned back to him, allowing Michael’s words to register. Had he actually used the word “our”?

  “What do you mean, sweetie?”

  “If we were celebrating Christmas, and she bailed on us. Would you be OK with her leaving?”

Joanna exhaled, tinkling her fingertips on his arm, as she would play a piano melody.  “Honestly, I would hate it, but I would understand, try to give her space. I’d never want to treat her how I was.”

 He nodded. “You won’t do that, Jo. You’re so kind, accepting, nurturing. I know you’d be a great mother to our kids.” 

 Michael rested his palm on her shoulder.

 “Is that what you see for us?”

 “Absolutely. Don’t you?” He intertwined their fingers, and when he pressed lips onto the back of Joanna’s hand.

  Joanna absorbed the weight of his three words, their meaning as clear as the blue sky she viewed, its beauty as certain as her feelings for him. Yet another hidden talent of hers, she buried her adoration of Michael for so many months, though she’d felt drawn to him from the beginning. She’d pressed down those feelings, when Michael told her about his sister’s illness and death, how hard he’d tried to help her overcome her addiction, when he’d held her during the news of her beloved grandmother’s passing during their glorious summer together. Joanna knew what she felt, with every hilarious story about his brothers, with every meal they shared, with every long walk in the park they’d taken.  Her skin sizzled under the touch of his beautiful hands, and the hum of longing within her grew a bit fiercer and louder during each day spent with him.

  “Anything I want, you say?”

  Michael’s voice brought her back.

  “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

   Michael chuckled. “Stop pretending you didn’t hear me, Jo. When we get back, our first stop is the grocery store. I’ll push the cart while you shop for what you need to cook.”

  Joanna smiled. “Are you sure? It’s gonna be crowded and crazy wherever we go, you up for that?”

 “You owe me, Joanna.

 “And I’ll pay up, but why not just make it easy, just for today and splurge with pizza? I promise next week, I’ll hook you up with a feast. New year, new traditions, right?”

  Michael winked. “You’re on. You really want to just go on?”

 “Yeah, I’ll stop by later in the week and grab my bag, “ Joanna said. “I’ve got everything I really need at home.”

  Joanna truly wished it were possible to bottle this feeling, to distill as needed, when she wavered in her feelings for him. It was as imperceptible as the chilly wind she encountered earlier. It was unseen and invisible, yet imprinted upon her heart beside the faith by which she lived. He was, as always, the brightest light on her darkest day. She had no idea about their future, as unpredictable as any type of weather for which one could never adequately prepare. And now, not knowing was becoming something she was learning to accept, having escaped a familiar numbing wind of loneliness. She could brave the gusty evening tempest of her doubts and flaws, the coldest morning of her fear and angst, or the hottest afternoon of her overwhelming desire and longing, cloaked in a comforting warmth and softness, the most precious gift ever bestowed upon her.