Page 35

Maggie smiled, her heart light and beating fast against her ribs. “I couldn’t help myself,” she confessed with a small smile, her fingers gently smoothing his wool collar. “You’re a very good man, and you built something wonderful today.”

The comfortable atmosphere of the woodshop enveloped them. Outside the multi-paned windows, the winter twilight deepened, sending fresh gusts of harbor wind whistling around the eaves of the boatyard. The brass lamp overhead cast a gentle glow across the workbench, illuminating the fine wood shavings and the small jar of red stain.

Ben didn’t let go of her hand right away. His thumb moved slowly over her knuckles, his eyes bright with an unreserved warmth as a simple comfort settled between them.

Ben gave Maggie a thoughtful smile. “I was thinking about the schedule after the holidays,” he said in a low and relaxed voice. “The shop slows down in January once the winter boat repairs are wrapped up. We could take my car up the coast for a long weekend, maybe to those towns you mapped out in your notebook that you haven’t seen yet.”

Maggie’s heart gave a sudden, sharp flutter against her ribs. She stared at him, her smile wavering slightly. “Up the coast?”

Ben nodded, his expression open and full of natural certainty. “We could bring Theo along to see the maritime museum in Mystic. I’m sure Laura could use a vacation too. Or we could drive north toward the lighthouse shore. Theo’s never seen the big granite breakwater when the winter waves crash over the rocks. And we don’t have to wait until summer to start crossing off those unchecked boxes.”

He reached out with his other hand, resting his palm over hers. “And for Christmas Eve, I thought we could sit together near the front pews during the chapel lighting, then bring Theo back here for hot cider before the midnight service.”

The words were spoken with affection, but as they echoed through the warm shop, a cold wave of sudden panic surged through Maggie’s chest. The cozy intimacy of the workbench vanished. Hearing him map out January trips and Christmas Eve traditions as a couple made the future feel terrifyingly real, concrete, and permanent.

Her mind raced back to her lonely living room on Elm Street, to the notebook sitting in the bottom drawer, and to the granite headstone standing on the frozen bluff overlooking the channel. A voice inside her head whispered that stepping into a complete, planned future with Ben meant closing the book on the past forever. It felt as if she were actively erasing years of marriage, replacing her past with a brand-new life as though her first love had simply been a draft.

Just moments ago, she’d thought she was so certain she wanted this. Deserved this. Now, she felt a palpable fear like none other.

Maggie slid her hand out from under Ben’s hold, pulling her fingers back toward her chest. She stood up from the wooden stool, taking two quick steps back from the edge of the workbench, her eyes wide as she blinked up at him.

Ben’s brow furrowed in immediate concern as his hands fell empty onto the cotton towel. He sat up straighter on his stool, his eyes searching her face. “Maggie? What’s wrong?”

She held her hands tightly together in front of her sweater, her knuckles turning white under the yellow light. “It—It’s too much,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “It’s all moving far too fast.”

Ben looked at her in confusion, his head tipping a fraction to the side. “We were just talking about taking a weekend drive in January.”

Maggie shook her head, a defensive wall rising rapidly around her heart. “It isn’t just a weekend drive. You’re talking about January trips, Christmas Eve pews, and building a completely new life together. Thirty minutes ago, we were sanding a cedar bird, and now you’re planning months down the road as if everything before this had been swept away.”

Ben stepped forward slowly. He didn’t crowd her, but his eyes remained fixed on hers with such intensity. “Nobody’s trying to sweep anything away. I respect what came before, the same way you respect my own history. That wasn’t just a cedar bird we were sanding, Maggie. That was something precious that we shared together.”

Maggie looked away, toward the dark window glass, her chest aching with a harsh, conflicting pain. “I care about you, Ben,” she whispered, the confession raw and heartrending. “I truly do. I loved sitting at this bench with you today, and I loved kissing you.” Her gaze flicked up to his. “But I can only manage a few sweet December moments right now. I can enjoy sharing a cup of coffee, or helping with the dories at the market, or sitting by the fire on a cold night. But I don’t think I can wholeheartedly promise you a permanent future after the decorations come down.”

The words hung in the shop air, weighty and too honest. Maggie felt frustrated with herself for saying these things to Ben when he had been nothing but wonderful to her, but she couldn’t hold them in.

He stood motionless, his hands hanging at his sides. The bright elation that had lit up his face minutes ago vanished, replaced by a dignified composure.

He drew a long breath. “I told you on Sunday morning in the church where I stood,” Ben said, his usual raspy voice firm but completely devoid of anger. “I told you I wouldn’t rush you, and I meant every word. But I also told you I wouldn’t enter a relationship that isn’t going anywhere.”

Maggie swallowed hard, her throat tight as she met his gaze, but no words came.

Ben held up a steady hand, keeping his posture calm and dignified. “I care about you too much to turn what we have into a temporary holiday romance. I don’t want to hide from life or emotions anymore just because I’m afraid of getting hurt again. But I won’t spend the next month holding your hand, knowing you’re planning to pull away as soon as January arrives.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I want a real future, or I want nothing at all. I won’t settle for being a seasonal comfort while you decide if I’m worth the risk.”

The composed strength in his voice was undeniable. He was simply holding an unwavering boundary that demanded the same courage from her that he had been forced to find in himself. Maggie understood it, and she knew she had to accept it if she couldn’t give him what he wanted.

She felt tears burn behind her eyes, her heart torn in two directions at once. She wanted the warmth and happiness he offered, but the fear of losing herself or being disloyal held her firmly in its grip.

Remaining in the shop under his steady gaze felt unbearable. She turned away without another word, crossing the floorboards to pull her coat off the hook and wrap her red scarf around her neck with trembling fingers. She grabbed her bag from the bench seat and shoved through the heavy oak door.

Ben didn’t call out or try to stop her. He remained standing by his workbench under the brass lamp, his tall silhouette outlined against the warm light.

Maggie stepped out into the biting cold twilight, letting the shop door close firmly behind her. The iron chime above the frame gave a single, sad ring before falling silent.

BEN

Two mornings later, thin rays of light sliced through the multi-paned windows of Ben’s saltbox kitchen on Harbor Lane. Outside, a harsh ocean draft rattled the cedar shingles and whistled past the eaves.