How to Break the Ice

Most of the huts were arranged on long wooden or metal "skis" or had wheels attached to their bases , enabling them to be easily towed on and off the lake or moved to different locations depending on where the fish were biting. Others had a more permanent look, the owners obviously chose a spot at the beginning of the season and stuck with it.

In the evenings Rebecca made her way over to Ben's cabin where they took turns cooking dinner and made love all night. Neither of them talked about the fact that Rebecca had to leave Friday.

On Thursday night Ben came over to have dinner with Leah and Tom; a sure sign, Leah claimed that things were "getting serious." Of course, this necessitated a long chat with her friends about "where this was going"—a question that Rebecca didn't have the answer to. She knew what she wanted to happen—she wanted to keep seeing Ben—but she had no idea how that could practically be achieved. She had her life in the city and he had his here. She supposed they could see each other on weekends? But driving six hours on terrible roads in the winter every weekend, or even every other weekend, wasn't exactly something Rebecca relished doing. She'd had so many friends try and do the long distance thing only to have it fail. It made her nervous.

Christ, it's not like we live on opposite ends of the country, surely we can make this work? she wondered.

It seemed that Ben had been having similar thoughts. After dinner that night—a dinner through which he'd managed to charm both Leah and Tom with a chatty, easygoing personality she'd never seen him display with anyone but her—he asked if they could talk. They went upstairs to her room and sat on the bed, Rebecca had snagged a queen size bed after everyone had left Monday but, ironically, she had yet to sleep in it.

"Look, Becca, I know we've been trying to ignore the fact that you're leaving tomorrow but I think we need to talk about it," Ben said, looking down at the duvet. He seemed uncomfortable.

"I know, I agree. I've been thinking about it all week but I felt like if I brought it up it would make it real and it would spoil things, we've just been having such a great time and I don't know, I've just been so happy with you..." Rebecca blushed.

"I know, me too," he squeezed her hand, "but we can't ignore the fact that we live in two different places, that we come from two different worlds—sorry, that sounded pretty cheesy," be laughed, "but it's true. I, I can't live in the city Becca and I know you have so much going on there, your job, your photography, your friends, I don't want to ask you to spend every weekend here or..." he paused, swallowed and met her eyes, "live here, or anything..."

"I'm not saying I should move here," she flushed, embarrassed to be fast-forwarding their relationship so quickly.

Well, he brought it up first, may as well lay all the cards on the table...she decided inwardly.

"But I do think I could be happy here for awhile, maybe forever. I don't know how the practicalities would work out but I'm willing to give it a try." She looked at him steadily, hoping that he felt as strongly about her as she did him.

Ben swallowed. "I don't want to force anyone to live a life they don't want, that they aren't suited to," he said, clearly thinking of his experience with Jenna, "I can't do that."

"Ben, I'm not Jenna. And, yeah, I guess I've become a city girl in some ways, but that's not who I am, not totally. I love it here. I've felt more creative, more alive this week than I have in ages."

"Becca, I know it sounds easy know but you know that you'll just end up resenting me every time you have to make this drive, every time you have to miss events at the magazine or nights out with your friends. You'll come here and you'll be bored, pretty soon you'll think I'm boring. I could come and see you but you know I won't fit in there, you'll try and drag me out to events, I'll feel uncomfortable so I'll be surly and unfriendly and all your friends will start to hate me, they'll start to ask you why you're with me. Pretty soon you'll start to ask yourself the same thing," he sounded defeated.

"Fuck that, Ben, You can't just imagine away any sort of future for us with some doomsday scenario! It doesn't have to be like that," she said, emotion choking her voice.

She was angry with him for saying those things but even angrier at herself for having to recognize, deep down, that what he said might be true. That he just might be right. In all likelihood they wouldn't survive the weekend visits, the pressure of him trying to fit in where he was miserable, her being forced to try and relax after a long week of work and a six hour drive only to inevitably be thinking about how she'd have to do it all again in a few days. Ben's eyes shut off, and he released her hand.

"No, you're right, maybe it doesn't have to be that way but we both know that's how it will be. I don't want you to start to resent me, to start to hate it here, I don't know if I can go through that," he looked everywhere but at her as he said this.

"So that's it? We have a week like we just did and we say goodbye? Maybe I'll see you next winter?" her voice rose in anger.

She knew that he was trying to be practical, realistic, that he was trying to protect himself, and her, from being hurt but her heart refused to accept his dispassionate appraisal of their chances.

"I don't like this either Becca. I really...care for you, a lot. I wish that there was some way we could do this, make this work, without making ourselves miserable but I just don't see it," he said, reaching for her hand.

She pulled out of his reach angrily. "Okay, fine then. I think you should go," she wanted him gone before the tears clouding her eyes spilled out onto her cheeks.

"Becca—" his voice choked with emotion.

"Ben, just go. Please," she said thickly.

He got up and walked out the door, she heard the front door click closed behind him and she collapsed on the bed sobbing. Heartbroken twice in six months. But this one felt worse, she'd opened herself more fully to Ben in just a week than she had in a year with Liam. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and Leah's voice consoling her.

Two months later:

Becca took a sip of wine and looked over the portfolio one more time. Since she'd returned from Eagle Lake she'd spent the majority of her free time editing her photos from the trip. After flipping through the hundreds of shots she'd taken she felt herself being drawn over and over to the shots of the ice huts, there was something intrinsically charming about them.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one who thought so. She'd posted an album labeled "Ice Huts" on her website and received a message from an independent publisher. They were publishing a series of Canadian themed coffee table books organized around the seasons, last fall they'd published one on scarecrow festivals around the country and it had been wildly successful. Becca even remembered seen a copy at her parents place. They were interested in using her shots for their winter theme, and they wanted her to travel across the country and taking photos of ice huts, concentrating on the regional differences between provinces. What was more, they were willing to pay her a decent amount of money to do this. It was, quite literally, a dream come true. She'd celebrated with her friends when she'd signed the contract but her happiness was all on the surface. Looking at the shots reminded her of Ben, and she knew she'd spend the next six months traveling thinking of him and nothing else.

She'd hoped that time would heal her heartbreak, that the memory of that week with him would slowly settle into the back of her brain. She'd tried to convince herself that it had merely been a fun vacation fling, like a Spring Break hook-up, but she knew it for the lie that it was. She missed him with a dull ache that panged through her body every time she was reminded of him. What was more, that week in the country had only served to make her disconnect with her life in the city—her job, the traffic, the noise—more profound. She felt like she was sleepwalking half the time. Even the quitting her job at Sweet hadn't been as satisfying as she'd always imagined it would be.

As she flipped through her photos her heart lurched. She spotted something she hadn't noticed before. In the background of one of the photos she'd taken in the woods her very first day there was a figure. She zoomed in, blowing up the tiny figure twenty times. It was Ben. He was standing just at the edge of the frame, hands in pockets. His face was intent. He was watching her. He had a small smile on his face and his eyes were warm and appreciative. She felt sick. He'd been so rude to her that day, so it surprised her to know that he had looked at her like this. The Ben in the picture was the Ben she'd spent the week with—lazing in bed, making love, laughing—and this was the only picture she had of him.

She started to cry, first small gasps then long hiccupping sobs. She'd thought that her heartbreak had dulled slightly over the last two months. She was wrong. Pain and loss ripped through her stomach. And anger. Why had she given up so easily? Why had she let him push her away?

She didn't care that they'd only spent a week together, she knew she loved him and she was pretty sure he loved her too—despite his bullshit. The same instinct that caused him to shut himself off to strangers had caused him to push her away before he got hurt, or before he hurt her.

Well, fuck that, she decided angrily.

Rebecca turned left onto the bumpy road with a feeling of excitement and dread. She'd sold her condo and packed most of her stuff into storage, the rest was in Leah's garage. She was supposed to be headed east to capture the ice huts on PEI but she had to make a stop first. The publishers had given her two months to get the photos she needed and asked her to find someone to help her write copy—they'd been impressed enough by her freelance work and her copy at Sweet to allow her to exercise control of that aspect of the book, for which she was exceedingly grateful. She just happened to know someone who was a bit of an expert on ice fishing. Now she just had to get him to agree to do it.

She pulled into the driveway in front of Ben's cabin and got out. It was early evening and she could see lights on in the kitchen.

She knocked on the door and waited, her stomach clenched in nervous anticipation. The door swung open and Ben stood before her. Though it was only what she'd expected the sight of him caused her mouth to freeze and any opening statement she'd had planned died on her lips.

"Becca," Ben said in surprise, he stood there staring at her mutely for a minute the collected himself "what?...come in," he ushered her in and she followed.

"Can I get you something? A drink?" he said.

"No, I'm fine. Look Ben...," she trailed off, she knew why she was here—it had all seemed so simple when she'd devised the plan—but now, seeing Ben here, in his home, she realized that getting him to agree with her plan might not be as easy as she'd thought.

What if he doesn't even have feelings for me anymore? she asked herself, suddenly feeling sick.

It was hard not to worry but she'd heard—from a reliable source—that he'd been miserable these last few months and she could only assume it was because he felt the same way she did. She took a deep breath and looked up. Ben was standing about two feet away staring at her. By the look in his eyes, she knew she needn't have worried.

He took two faltering steps towards then drew her to him, his lips meeting hers with a crushing intensity. They stood, kissing, lost in each other for several minutes. Becca's head was spinning, it felt to good to be back here, with Ben, kissing Ben.

"Ben—" she said breathlessly between kisses.

He laughed, "sorry, it's just, damn, it's so good to see you Becca," he said, trailing a calloused thumb over her chin.

"You too," she said softly. "I'm not just here for a visit though. I, well, I have a proposition for you," she swallowed then continued, "did you know that ice fishing huts in Saskatchewan don't have sleds or wheels on them but are tapered at the bottom so they can fit onto the flatbed of a truck?" she stammered nervously.

Ben looked at her incredulously, "um, no I, ah, didn't know that but it makes sense I guess...then you wouldn't need a trailer...wait why the hell are you telling me this?"

As she outlined her plan she watched his face. He seemed to be listening intently. He interrupted her when she told him about the publisher's contract for the coffee table book. "Becca, that's amazing! I'm so proud of you—"

She stopped him with a wave of her hand. Now that she had his attention she wanted to explain her proposal quickly, build on the excitement she could see building in his eyes as she outlined her plan to travel across the country photographing the huts and cataloguing their differences.

"So, the publisher, they want me to hire someone to help me out, do some research, talk to locals, someone who's an expert in the field so to speak...naturally, well, I thought of you," she paused.

Ben sat staring at her for a minute his face a mixture of emotions. He looked excited, pleased and worried all at the same time. "Wow, that's, well, that sounds amazing, really amazing. But you know I can't leave my mom here, she needs my help...I can't just pick up and go for two months, you know that Becca," he sounded genuinely disappointed.

"I know. But I spoke to your mom. She told me you've been miserable these last two months, 'even snarkier than usual' was how she put it," Becca laughed, "she also told me that your uncle is back on his feet but that you haven't been letting him help out, that you've insisted on doing all the work yourself like a madman," Becca looked at him accusingly.

"You talked to my mom?" he looked genuinely shocked.

"Well, yeah, I know it all sounds crazy Ben, but it's not. If you think it through it makes total sense. I mean, your mom told me she could manage without you for a while and I know you've been itching to go traveling again, what could be better than this? And they'll pay you. And, and, we could be together," she said that last, most important bit, quietly, hoping that it meant as much to him as it did her.

In the end, it took awhile but she managed to convince him. They went over every detail of the plan, she showed him the itinerary she'd agreed upon with the publisher, the contracts he'd have to sign, and outlined her vision for the book.

The way she saw it each ice hut was a reflection of the person that built it, a reflection of their persona but they also reflected local culture. In PEI, for instance the huts were often decorated with scenes of local folk art. She wanted to showcase both the diversity and the ubiquity of the huts—their essential Canadian-ness. As they went over her thoughts she knew that her instincts had been right, Ben was more animated than she'd ever seen him and he had amazing ideas about why and how people constructed their huts.

"You've really thought this all out, haven't you," he said in wonder.

"Yeah, I have, but you know it's not just that it makes sense, it's that, I don't know Ben, when I was looking at these pictures I just kept thinking of you, in fact, I've been thinking of you nonstop since I left here," she looked at him steadily, a question in her eyes.

"Fuck, Becca. I have too. You don't know how many times I've gotten in my car and started to drive, to come and see you, tell you what an asshole I was, that we should try to make this work, no matter what kind of bullshit I said but I always stopped myself, I just figured you'd gotten back to the city and resumed your life and...forgotten about me. I mean, I know I can't compete with all that."

"Ben, you don't need to. I don't want that. Being here, being with you, it made me realize that I wasn't happy there. I hated my job, I hated being so removed from nature. In a way, despite being in the center of everything I felt totally shut off from the world. And, I just, well," she gulped, "I love you," she said the last part quietly, her heart in her throat.

Ben smiled broadly, his eyes bright. He pulled her to her feet and led her down the hall to the bedroom. They undressed each other in silence, slowly, reverently, until they stood naked before each other. Rebecca's breath was shallow. She could feel every inch of her body tingling in awareness of Ben's proximity. As she raked her gaze over his tall, lean, muscled form, his bobbing cock thick and hard between his legs, she yearned for his touch.

He stepped closer and drew her face to his. "I love you too Becca, so much," he said kissing her.

They began to make love slowly, savoring every touch, every caress. Becca gasped when Ben entered her and cried out as he began to thrust. She dug her nails into the skin of his back, urging him more deeply inside of her. He kissed her neck, her breasts, her shoulders. His breath grew hoarse and labored and he groaned her name as he released inside of her. She found her own release then, her body wracked and spasming underneath his weight.

He kissed her softly and she stared into his eyes. She smiled. She knew, in that moment, that no matter what happened in the future, they could make this work. It was worth fighting for.