Guilford Trail

“Claire. You have got to stop slamming the doors when you get in my car.”

Sam Rooney held his head in his hands in mock -- maybe not so mock -- frustration. Claire, on the other hand, smugly reached over her shoulder, pulling the seatbelt across her chest and clicking it in place.

“Sam. Maybe don’t purchase a truck with such heavy doors then.”

Sam smiled as he shook out his hair and placed both hands back on the steering wheel. “Fair point.”

Claire Fecastro reached over to fiddle with the radio, rummaging through stations of static intermingled with faded fifties crooners or warbled eighties jams. She finally landed on a clear-ish station that played nineties and early 2000s hits.

Silently, both Sam and Claire were cognizant of the weirdly tense energy coursing through the recirculated air of the truck. Had they both pretended to have New Years plans in order to avoid spending midnight with each other? Yes. Had either of them disclosed that information to the other? Obviously not.

Claire and Sam had undergone countless grueling months in a will-they-won’t-they friendship. All of their mutual friends had made secret bets on how long it would take before the two of them crossed keystone platonic boundaries. A kiss? Maybe a few more weeks. Hooking up? Less than a year.

Unfortunately for all betters involved, neither had occurred over the course of two and a half painfully awkward years. Claire had maintained a steady stream of single dates and casual relationships while Sam managed to “focus on his studies” or simply “didn’t have time for a girlfriend.”

Long story short, both were completely enamored. Neither, however, had the courage to be the one to admit it first.

“Where to?” Sam piped up, placing his right arm on the console and keeping his left hand on the wheel. How convenient it would be for Claire to simply lace her fingers in his.

“Kitten’s Mountain?” Claire guessed, tucking her hands into her coat pockets, removing them, then opting to cross her arms along her chest.

“That’s where we went to hike last time,” Sam said. As he did, the turnoff for Kitten’s Mountain whizzed past the driver’s side window and into the rearview oblivion. “I’m taking us somewhere special.”

“Okay then,” Claire replied, following the trailhead sign with her eyes as it disappeared behind them. “Obviously you had a place in mind. Why even bother asking?”

Claire poked Sam’s side, mostly joking. At the same time, however, Claire knew that Kitten’s had a reputation for sunset kisses and mountainous make-out sessions. Secretly, she had hoped to engage in one if not both of these infamous activities. She figured it was long overdue.

During the few hours she had before midnight, alone, Claire decided to put her spare time to use and decide on some concrete resolutions for the coming year. Everyone says they’ll stick to them, but so few people do. Therefore, this year Claire would be different. Claire would actually follow through on five goals.

1. Go to the gym more often. Get back down to her high school weight (note: 125 pounds).

2. Talk to her mom on the phone at least once a week.

3. Find a school/work/life balance.

4. Try yoga and meditation.

And finally, the kicker.

5. Settle things with Sam.

Claire knew that this last resolution was vague. However, in her favor, the ambiguity allowed her some wiggle room. If Sam spoke up first and declared that he had feelings, Claire could confess that she reciprocated. Or, perhaps, if Claire took Sam to Kitten’s Mountain and the mood was right, Claire could consider things settled. She didn’t want to set something lofty like “Finally date Sam” because that only left her to be disappointed.

Aim low but hope for high, she thought.

“So then, where are you taking us?” Claire asked. Sam now had both hands planted firmly on the wheel.

So much for resolution #5.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough,” Sam said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a flirtatious smile.

In return, Claire placed her left hand on the console.

As Sam drove on, longer than Claire was expecting, he also allowed his mind to wander. He was studying finance and economics with a minor in physics. Sam knew that the minor didn’t pair well with the majors unless he wanted to be an accountant for NASA, but physics brought him a weird sense of accomplishment he wasn’t ready to abandon. Sam was as sharp as a tack. He was student council president during his high school days, as well as president of the Math Team: The Mangrove Mathletes. It may not have looked great in person, but wowed recruiters on paper. He was offered a 80% tuition scholarship to Yale and snatched it up faster than you can say ‘amorphous solid’. Claire decided to take a gap year that turned into two. Now, she was nannying for a stupidly rich family just outside of New Haven.

If Sam and Claire were ever to explore something “More Than Friends,” they sure had a geographic recipe for success. ‘Long distance’ never had to be in their vocabulary.

Unbeknownst to Claire, Sam had also devised a list of resolutions for the New Year.

1. Go to the gym more.

They had that much in common.

2. Stay on the Dean’s List.

3. Spend more time with his little brother.

Strong in their family lives, Sam and Claire again would strike relationship gold.

4. Create a budget.

Typical for a finance and economics major.

And finally, number 5.

5. Settle things with Claire.

As Sam turned his left blinker on, the click click click brought him back to reality. He coasted into a spot and parked his truck.

“Wow, there’s no one out here.” Claire peered out at the empty spots and blanket of still white that surrounded the bright red Ford. She delicately adjusted her gloves on her hands and wrapped a scarf around her neck. Sam did the same.

“Oh, and Sam?” Claire stepped down onto the icy asphalt, making eyes at Sam over the hood. Oh-so-gently, she shut the passenger door. “Better?”

Butterflies fluttering up his chest, Sam just smiled.

“So, where are we, Rooney?” Claire shuffled around to the bed of the Ford where Sam was shuffling through a myriad of tools.

“Well, Fecastro,” Sam replied mockingly, “I thought we would try something different for our hike today. Something sentimental.” Claire could feel her heart start beating just a little bit faster.

“Oh?” She replied, striding a few paces to be next to Sam as he pulled something from the bed of the truck.

“Do you recognize this place?”

Claire took a moment to look around. “Honestly, no.”

Sam shook the snow off of one of his boots. “The winter doesn’t help. Here.” Sam handed Claire a shovel and a canvas bag, heavier than she expected.

Sam walked over to the closest sign post, then brushed it off.

Guilford Trail

“Recognize it now?” A warm, bright whiplash of summer came racing back to Claire. “This is where Addison and Michael held their graduation bonfire.” She waited to see if Sam would finish the rest of the story.

“Yep. It’s also-“ the two un-lover lovebirds finished in unison.

“Where we met.”

The snow could have melted where Sam stood. Seeing Claire standing there in her winter pants and coat, all bundled up against the Connecticut winter, he had no doubts. Not to mention, she had remembered the reason why he brought her here. He felt confident in trusting his gut.

“What’s with the shovel?” Claire asked. Sam motioned for her to catch up to him. With the grace of a skilled gentleman, he took both the shovel and canvas bag in one hand. In the other, Sam took the tiny be-gloved hand of Claire. He could feel her pause for a moment, only to return his grasp. Within a split second, they were walking in stride as if they were seasoned pros.

“Well,” Sam began, giving Claire’s hand a squeeze for good measure. “In the spirit of the New Year, I thought it would be fun for us to plant a tree. I don’t know, something about new beginnings I guessed.”

Under the brim of her winter hat, Claire looked up at Sam with endearment and bewilderment. Out of the side of his eye, Sam threw her a wink.

Butterflies part two.

The two walked hand in hand along the trail, talking about resolutions -- save for one in particular -- and listening to the snow crunch beneath them. Sam walked slower so Claire could keep up, Claire walked faster so Sam wasn’t dragging her along. Both wondered which friends would be randomly treating them to dinner with their newfound winnings.

After the better part of an hour, Sam let go of Claire’s hand.

“Here it is,” he said. “It doesn’t look like much, but this is the exact spot where you and I met. Right by the bonfire.” Sure enough, just cresting over the blanket of snow was the jagged edges of a stone fire pit.

“This is all so...” Claire grappled with saying the word. “Romantic.”

5. Settle things with Sam.

Sam chuckled, handing her the canvas bag. “You’re surprised?”

Claire quietly shook her head, then began to clear the fluffy snow a couple feet from the edge of the fire pit.

Sam did most of the digging, seeing as the ground was hard and cold. Claire did her best to keep the sapling from freezing at the roots by keeping it propped up in her lap as she perched on a nearby rock.

“You know, Sam.” Claire began. “It took you long enough.”

Sam sighed. “Trust me, I know.” He continued to shovel the dark earth below him. “It took me so long to make up my mind. I didn’t want to ruin what we had and I was always so focused on school...” Sam trailed off, watching a quick wave of resentment cross Claire’s face. “And you were also so busy, with nannying,” he continued, checking to make sure Claire felt valid in her so-called career choice. “It really took a kick in the head for me to make up my mind. You’re so incredible and I didn’t want to take you off the market from some other eligible guy.”

Claire chuckled. “Are you serious? You’re the only guy I’ve wanted since we met here two years ago.”

Sam continued to shovel.

“Maybe it’s too early to have the what-are-we conversation,” Claire breathed, kicking at the snowy brush by her feet. “But either way, I just want you to know that it was on my list of things to think about this year.”

Sam perked up. “Mine too. I just wanted to figure out what was best for us so we didn’t have to walk on eggshells all the time. I know you felt it. You know me too well to have ignored it.”

Claire smiled. “Sure, it was tense sometimes. But weirdly, I enjoyed it. The unspoken flirtatiousness of it all.”

Sam stood with the shovel resting on its end, wiping his brow with his knitted beanie. Surveying his work, he looked up, only to meet eyes with Claire. She placed the canvas sack on the ground next to her, standing to meet Sam.

Claire continued. “I’m glad you made up your mind.”

Claire ran her hands up the weather-proof front of Sam’s jacket, fiddling with the zipper. The two were so close that their frosty breath curled into one, lifting into the gray sky like a single smoke stack. Finger by finger, Claire removed her gloves. Then, with warm, bare hands, she cupped Sam’s face with a subtle grace. His face was hot with exertion and stubbly from the night before. Claire looked up into his icy blue eyes -- the only glimmer of color in the barren landscape -- and moved in even closer. Slowly, she planted the most tender of kisses upon his lips.

Forget the butterflies, this was full on fireworks.

Sam stiffened for a moment, realizing that this was the moment that he had been waiting for all this time. With his free hand, he pulled Claire in, wrapping his arm around her waist with the tender ferocity of a man whose friends had placed bets on him.

In that moment, their bodies pressed against each other, it began to softly snow in fat flakes that dusted the tops of their shoulders and the wings of their eyelashes. In that moment, everything made sense. Finally, Sam pulled away with tears in his eyes.

“You alright?” Claire tucked her hand under his chin.

“I’m great.” Sam replied. “Happy. Let’s go ahead and plant the tree so we can get out of here.”

Claire wasted no time.

She removed the sapling from the canvas. It was a scrawny little spruce that looked like it had never seen the light of day.

“You think the little guy is gonna make it?” Sam chuckled, slinging an arm over Claire’s shoulder and giving her a squeeze. “Out of the three of us, at least two of us will. Besides, little dude looks resilient.”

With that, Claire brushed away some snow so she could kneel next to the considerable hole Sam had dug. Carefully, she placed the spruce into the ground, its little green needles paling in comparison to the Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. But, with newfound hope, Claire began to adjust the sapling in the dirt with delicate hands.

“Are you gonna help or what?” Claire turned around just soon enough to watch the blade of Sam’s shovel collide with

her temple. She saw a flash, followed by stars. Vision blackening, consciousness slipping away, she heard another dull thud ring out through the trees. Then, there was nothing.

---

Gently closing the driver’s side door of his red Ford truck, Sam warmed his muddied hands on the sputtering air conditioner. Careful not to disturb too much of the new snow, Sam pulled out of the lot and began down the road.

He didn’t get far before he put the truck back in park and rolled down the window. Then, with the tender ferocity of a man whose friends had placed bets on him, Sam placed not one, but two pairs of gloves into the garbage can by the trailhead, one pair quite larger than the other.

5. Settle things with Claire.