On Thin Icing Read Online Free Page B

do.”
    He smiled. “Yeah, he’s known best for being the first philosopher to understand that change is a constant in the universe.”
    “That sounds like my life.”
    “Yeah, mine too.” Sterling gave me a sympathetic smile. “One of my favorite quotes is attributed to him. He says something like, ‘You cannot step twice into the same rivers, for fresh waters are forever flowing in upon you.’”
    I inhaled deeply. “Wow. I love that so much.”
    Sterling tugged at the strings on his hoodie. “It kind of seems like where you’re at. You know, you’re home, but you can’t really ever go back to things as they used to be.”
    I placed one hand on my stomach, and drew in a long breath. “Yes! That’s exactly how I feel.” I couldn’t believe that he’d so eloquently voiced what I’d been struggling with. “You’re a decade younger than me, how do you have things so figured out?”
    “I don’t, Jules. I just know where you are,” he said softly.
    We both became lost in our own thoughts again as we sped past a fire station. In the summer months the station serves as a lookout and gathering point for firefighters battling forest fires, but it sat in a lonely winter slumber today. Next, expensive cabins came into view. We were only about five miles from Lake of the Woods now.
    Sterling was right. I was home again, but I was an entirely different person. Fresh and salt waters had been flowing in upon me for years. That was it. Change. The universe was alive with change. I had changed. Home had changed. Neither of us were the same. And for the first time since I’d been back, I understood that was exactly as it should be.

 
    Chapter Four
    Lake of the Woods Resort was originally built as a fishing retreat in the 1920s. At just under five thousand feet in elevation, the natural lake is a popular destination all year round. During the summer months vacationers swim off the lake’s shallow banks, fish for rainbow trout, and tool around on party boats. In the winter the lake freezes over, making it a prime location for ice-fishing.
    I navigated off Dead Indian Road and over a bumpy one-lane road toward the resort. A fresh blanket of snow coated the tops of the evergreen trees. They looked as if they’d been frosted with buttercream. Mounds of dirty snow had been pushed to both sides of the road. As we rounded a bend the lake came into view. The midmorning sun cast a warm glow on the frozen lake. It was hard to imagine that there was water under its smooth surface.
    Sterling pulled a knit cap from his backpack and positioned it on his head. “Looks like it might be colder up here.”
    “You think?” I laughed as I maneuvered the car over the snowy road. Spaces in front of the rustic lodge had been plowed. I parked in one of them and we both got out. Sterling was right. The mountain air was much cooler here than in Ashland. Good thing I packed extra layers, I thought as I took in the view.
    The lake sat directly in front of us. To the right, smoke puffed from the lodge’s chimney. A deck wrapped around the two-story lodge. Its exterior was painted brown to blend in with the forest. Snow covered its slanted green metal roof. Note to self, don’t stand underneath the overhang. I could imagine an avalanche of snow landing on my head.
    The general store, to the left, looked like a miniature version of the lodge. It was closed for the season. Behind us, dirt trails, partially covered in snow, snaked from the lodge up into the woods. Cute cabins, each with a peekaboo view of the lake, were tucked into the trees.
    Sterling took a load of supplies from the back of the car. I followed behind with a box of my baking gear, feeling grateful that I’d opted to put my winter boots on before we left Ashland. I hadn’t seen this much snow in years. It made me want to grab a ball of it and toss it at Sterling.
    The smell of a crackling fire greeted us as we stepped inside the cheery lodge. A familiar memory washed over