I follow Teresa down a steep bank, towards the sound of rushing water.

“Careful!” she calls out, just as I’m about to say the same to her. But she looks like she’s taken this path a hundred times, and really her footing is much more skilled than mine.

I reach for a young sapling for balance and it bends as my feet slide a little. But the young tree keeps me upright and soon I’m finishing the descent in a near run, though I didn’t mean to.

I slow down, digging my feet into the sand. The backpack I’m wearing bumps against my back as I skid to a stop.

“Steep, isn’t it?” Teresa asks, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“I’ll say!” I look back up at the aggressive incline. “Are we seriously going to go back up that on our way home?”

“One step at a time,” she says, with a light laugh. “Look! I gave that tin coffee mug to my squirrel friend. See how he’s filled it with acorns?”

I look to where she’s pointing. A coffee mug full of acorns is lying on its side between two exposed roots of a pine tree.

“He’s made himself a little root cellar, hasn’t he? That was a generous gift. How did you know what he wanted?”

“Oh, I speak Squirrel. We talked about it.” She waves her hand playfully.

“My bilingual beauty,” I tease, reaching out to hug her.

Why can’t I keep my hands off of this woman? It seems like I am constantly embracing her. She doesn’t seem to mind. We kiss, and as usual, she takes my breath away.

I’m about to guide her down to the ground, so we can sit and enjoy our kiss on the sandy beach, when she pulls away. She presses against my chest playfully, batting her eyes up at me. “If we keep doing this, we’ll never make it to Cloud Lake.”

“Right,” I say, mesmerized by the way her cherry red lips move when she speaks. Sunlight flashes off of her blond hair. I lean down, moving to kiss her again, but she giggles and pulls away.

There’s a soft chirping sound floating down from the trees, and as if we both notice it above the roaring river at the same time, we each look up.

It’s impossible to see into the huge ball of sticks that makes up the eagle’s nest, but it’s clear that the chirping is coming from within.

“They’re noisy this morning!” Teresa says.

“Must be excited about spring, just like we are.”

The river is filled with white-capped waves. The trees across from it are budding, and everywhere there are signs of new life: dime-sized baby toads hop across the sand and rocks, little shoots of green poke up under a layer of winter-worn brown leaves, and even the pine trees glow green with fresh vibrancy.

“Let’s go!” Teresa says, waving me forward.

She leads the way along a single-track dirt trail at the river’s edge. After half a mile, we reach a bridge made out of two logs, with two-by-fours nailed across it. Teresa crosses first, cautioning me not to look down at the water when it’s my turn. I do as she says, and soon we’re on the other side of the river.

Then, we start to climb. The ground is wet from melted snow, but there isn’t any of the white stuff to be seen. Now that it’s April, it seems we’ve really turned a corner into spring.

“How did it go, with the architect?” Teresa asks. “Did you approve the blueprint?”

“Almost. We’re this close,” I hold up two fingers an inch apart. Teresa turns back to look at me, and I catch up to her to walk at her side, just as we reach an old logging road that’s nice and wide.

“What did you want to change?” she asks.

“The architect wanted to tear down the wall that’s on the north side, facing the street. We’re pulling a lot of the building apart, but I’ve told him before that I want that wall to stay standing. It feels…historical. Like it will set the tone for the whole building somehow—make it look like it still belongs in the town. It’s just an aesthetics thing, really, because we’re going to have to reinforce the back of it so much that we’re practically going to be putting up a new wall anyways, but, I don’t know…”

“That’s the brick facade with my grandfather's company name on it, right?” Teresa asks.

“Yes. I think it looks good.”

“My family will be really happy that you’re keeping it intact. I think others in the town will, too.”

“I hope so.” Her mention of others in the town brings me to another thought. “You know how I said that I want to put a coffee shop in the building’s entryway?”

“Yes…?”

“I stopped by Dawson’s and talked to Pete. I asked him if he might be interested in supplying it with baked goods. He seemed pretty happy about it.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“He’s a nice guy,” I say, recalling the way Pete Dawson had welcomed me into town right off the bat.

“It takes one to know one.”

“Aw…you think I’m a nice guy?”

“The nicest.”

I grin. “Well, then why do you take me out into the woods and march me up a mountain as if you want to punish me?”

“Oh, this is torture, isn’t it?” Teresa asks, rolling her eyes.

In fact, it’s the opposite. I feel, as we walk along the wooded path, more peaceful than I ever felt back at home, in the city.

The pace of my days is so much slower here, a fact that I wasn’t sure about, at first. It took me at least a week to settle into the routines of country living. But then, I started to love it. Everything from shoveling snow off of the cottage’s little front deck to washing dishes by hand in the small stainless steel sink. It’s all so simple. And I’ve never felt so good.

Birds sing to us from the trees, and every few moments we hear the scurrying sound of a squirrel, chipmunk, or rabbit that’s come to investigate our intrusion on their grounds.

I reach for Teresa’s hand, and hold it as we hike in silence.

After an hour of hiking, a clearing appears in the trees ahead.

“There it is,” Teresa says.

In another minute, I can see a beautiful lake. I can see why it’s called Cloud Lake; the puffy white clouds above are perfectly reflected in the water’s smooth surface.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“Do you think so?”

“Absolutely. No wonder you love it up here so much.”

“Not many people visit,” she says. “I think it’s a little bit too far for families with little kids, and really, the water never warms up enough for a good long swim, since it’s so high up here.”

“Do you swim in it?” I ask.

“Yes. But it’s icy cold! I’ll show you, in June, if you want. You can see for yourself.” Suddenly, her face falls. Why?

She’s afraid that I won’t be here by then.

And, will I? I can’t keep this up for ever. My father’s been kind enough to let me work from the States, but eventually, I have to tell him the truth. This visit is more than just a business trip.

Much, much more.

And what about Teresa? She hasn’t told her parents either. We’re both taking one day at a time, but that’s not going to work forever.

“We’ll see,” I say, softly.

“Yeah.” I watch her fight off the shadow that’s rolled in over her. “Hey, why don’t you open up that backpack? I put together a nice lunch for us.”

I’m happy to move the conversation forward too. I don’t know what else to tell her, though I know it will be time to give her some answers soon.

I slide the backpack’s straps off of my arms, and set the whole thing on a rock at the lake’s shore. Carefully, so that they don’t roll off of the rock and into the water, I set items on the rock, one by one.

“What do we have here…” I say, pulling out the packages that Teresa has wrapped with wax paper. “Apples! Carrot sticks…and what’s this? Are these Pete’s famous oatmeal cookies?”

“They taste the best after a hike.”

We settle down to our meal, and soon I feel full and happy. I venture off of the rock and onto a patch of dry pine needles that’s being flooded in sunlight. It feels good to stretch out after our long hike, and just look up at the clouds.

As I’d hoped, Teresa joins me. She places her head on my chest, and I speak softly as I run my fingers through her hair. “I don’t want you to be upset when you think about the future,” I murmur.

“I’m not,” she says.

“I could see it in your face when you mentioned swimming in June. I’ve seen it other times, too. You’re afraid. I don’t want you to be.”

She’s quiet. Birdsong floats through the air above us. I feel her breathing.

Then she says, “I don’t want to be afraid, but Jabir, you don’t live here. You have responsibilities in Dalai, and a family there. This is temporary. That’s okay—it has to be. I’m so grateful that you’re here, now. I just want to enjoy my time with you.”

“I’ll figure something out,” I promise. I honestly don’t know how I am going to keep this promise, but in this moment, all that matters to me is making Teresa feel safe. “For right now, my father’s happy that I’m taking care of all of our businesses in the Northeast. He thinks I’m here to be closer to the factories.”

I feel her nod. “Does he expect you back soon?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“I don’t know,” I answer. But the truth is, I do. And yes, he does expect me to go back soon. But I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave Teresa.

“What about you?” I ask. “You can’t keep wearing baggy sweatshirts every time you see your parents. You’ll have to tell them soon, right?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she says. “I’m starting to feel guilty, like I’m keeping this a secret for too long. I think I have to tell them. Now that we’re having regular appointments at Dr. Newton’s office, it’s only a matter of time before the news slips out by mistake.”

“And you don’t want them to hear it from someone other than you.”

I feel her shake her head. “That would be awful. Do you… do you think you might do it with me? I mean, be there when I tell them?” She lifts her head off of my chest and looks at me.

“You want that?” I ask. So far, she hasn’t introduced me to her parents. I was starting to wonder if she was afraid to. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Everyone likes you, Jabir,” she says. “How could they not? I think Marge is a little bit too crazy about you.”

I laugh. “She just likes me because I order twice as much food as you, which isn’t hard to do, by the way.”

“Hey! Last time I got two of my sandwiches, not just one.”

“Is this baby going to come out only wanting cucumbers and American cheese?” I tease. “Because I’ll die!”

“No,” Teresa says dreamily. “She’ll be an adventurous eater, up for anything.”

“He’ll like Machboos ala Dajaj and good ol’ American cheese both,” I say.

“Do you think it’s a girl, or a boy?”

“I’ll be happy either way. Do you want to find out? We could, you know, at the next appointment.”

She sighs happily. Her head’s back down on my chest, and I feel her wrap her arms around my torso. “I want to be surprised,” she says. “What about you?”

“I want what you want,” I say.

She’s so quiet, then, for such a long stretch of time that I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. In my mind, I’m imagining what the birth might be like. What will it feel like, to hold our baby in my arms?

Her voice pulls me from my dreamy state. “I do want you to meet them—my parents. I’m sorry that it’s taken so long. Everything just seems to be happening so fast.”

“I think it would be…a good idea.” Teresa must hear the hesitation in my voice, but she ignores it.

“Good. We can go to dinner at their house tomorrow night. You guys can get to know each other, and we’ll share the big news.”

“Perfect.” I try to sound confident, but inside, some of the peaceful feeling I’ve been bathing in is now evaporating.

What will they think, when I show up with their daughter, and we announce that a baby is on the way? I know how important honesty is to Teresa, and I know that it doesn’t feel good to hide things. I know. I’m hiding this whole thing from my parents, too.

My stomach flip-flops as I think about what’s ahead of us.

I sit up a little.

“Are you all right?” Teresa asks.

“I’m fine. It’s just…it might be time to get going. What do you think?”

* * *

That night, back at the cabin, I’m unable to sleep. I lie on my back on the small couch, staring up at the border of books that separates the living room from Teresa’s bedroom. Slivers of light are filtering between the books, which tells me that Teresa’s reading.

My mind is racing, thinking about how her parents might react. Will they kick me out of their house? Cry? Insult me? Try to protect their daughter? Give me a cold shoulder, while being polite on the surface?

The night grows later, and I toss and turn long after Teresa’s light goes out.

The next day, I’m a nervous wreck until five o’clock, when we leave for her parents’ house.

“What has gotten into you?” Teresa asks, as I drop my car keys for the second time on our way out to the driveway. “I’ve never seen you so fidgety!”

I stoop to pick up the keys, and then toss them back and forth in my hands as we keep walking. “Should we stop and get something to bring with us? Wine? Flowers?”

“My mom said not to bring a thing,” Teresa says. “She loves cooking Sunday dinner, and she prides herself in being a good hostess. Believe me, we don’t need to bring wine or flowers.”

I open up Teresa’s door and then slam it shut after she gets in.

The drive is a quiet one. I only realize that I’m chewing on my lip when Teresa reaches across the console and brushes her hand across my lower lip. “Hey,” she says. “They’re going to love you. Everything's going to be fine.”

I stop chewing on my lip, and start drumming nervously against the steering wheel instead.

She laughs.

Soon we’re walking up the steps to her parents’ house, and I feel horribly empty-handed. I feel like I should be carrying a gift of some kind. That’s what we would have done in Dalai.

I’m about to back down the driveway and make a run to Dawson’s for flowers, when Teresa reaches for my hand. As if sensing that I was about to turn and run, she practically pulls me to the front door with her.

When the door opens I see a tall man with a big, bushy mustache and beard. He’s standing next to a woman with Teresa’s slight build, and the same pale blond hair. They invite us in, and before I know it we’re inside and the door’s closing behind us.

The house smells good, like warm spices and fragrant meat. Teresa and I follow her folks into the kitchen area. I have my hand on the small of Teresa’s back, and she’s holding onto it, as if she doesn’t want me to bolt out the back door.

“Mom, Dad, this is Jabir,” Teresa says, once we’re all standing in the kitchen.

Her dad is reaching into the fridge, and he pulls out two beers. He hands me one.

“Jabir!” he says kindly. “Frank. It’s good to meet you. A real honor. I work at the transmission factory, and what you did for us, back before the holidays, whew…” he shakes his head. “It was a real lifesaver. Oh! Here, let me open that for you. Look at me! Hand a man a beer, and forget to open it!”

The beer’s sliding out of my hands as he takes it back. There’s a crack and a fizz as he pops the top off.

Teresa’s mother takes the opportunity to speak. “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I don’t know why it’s taken this long!” She shoots a look at Teresa.

“Well…” Teresa says, slowly. I can tell she’s about to dive into the news.

She’s not going to put this off, is she? Her father puts the open beer back in my hands, and I take a hasty sip.

“There’s a reason for that,” Teresa says. “Jabir and I have some news, and I wasn’t exactly sure how to tell you guys. Do you think… Dad, could you have a seat? Mom?”

She waits until her parents are seated at the kitchen table. I edge slightly behind Teresa, letting her take the lead. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite this nervous.

“Mom, Dad… I’m pregnant.”

A beat of silence hangs heavy in the room. And then, as if she was candy springing out of bursting piñata, Teresa’s mother flies out of her seat. She rushes to Teresa and smothers her in a powerful hug. “Oh honey! I knew it! I just knew it! Mothers know these things, you know.”

Teresa’s dad stands up. He smiles, and extends his hand. I reach forward, and shake his hand. Her mother’s celebratory spirit is infectious, and I guess I’m feeling it too, because I feel myself beaming.

“Congratulations, Jabir!” Frank says, pumping my hand up and down. “That’s fantastic news. Just fantastic! Carol here’s been driving me crazy with her suspicions, but we knew that you two would tell us when you were ready.”

“Wait… You knew?” Teresa asks, worming her way out of her mother’s grasp. “You couldn’t have!”

Carol laughs and claps her hands. “Oh, goodness! A grandchild. I’m going to be a grandmother! Frank, you’re going to be a grandfather!”

“Let’s have a toast,” Frank says.

“Hang on, let me get sparkling water for Teresa. Jabir, honey, are you all set with your beer?”

I raise my bottle up, to show that I am.

Carol rushes to the kitchen and pours a glass of sparkling water into a wine glass. She returns to our cluster with her own glass in one hand and Teresa’s in the other.

Soon, the four of us are raising glasses into the air. “To the miraculous blessing of a new life begun.” Teresa’s father says.

Her mother gives a little whoop of joy, and Teresa laughs.

It feels indescribably good to clink my amber bottle against the other glasses in the middle of our little circle.

As I sip my drink, I look around at the faces that surround me. I see now where Teresa gets her excitement and sense of adventure. This couple has raised her to celebrate the good things in life, not dwell on the bad.

I wrap my arm around Teresa, and she leans her head against my arm. I’m so grateful, in that moment, for both Teresa and her parents. Our child will be lucky to have such warm and loving grandparents.

By the time the night is ending, I find that I don’t want to leave. How is it possible that only hours before I was dreading the meeting? The only thing that makes leaving the warm, happy house better is knowing that I am about to go home with Teresa. I find that meeting her parents has made me appreciate her even more.

Besides, out of respect, I couldn't kiss her in front of them—not like I wanted to, anyways. But when we get back into the car, I’m finally able to express my feelings. As I kiss her deeply, I don’t want the kiss to ever end.