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They spent Christmas at the cottage, and despite the cold, Jonathan developed the habit of taking long walks around the property. Snow crunched beneath his boots, the chill worked its way into his bones and bit his nose until it turned red, no matter how well he tied his scarf.
But the biting cold, the ache in his legs when he walked too long, the sting of his lungs in the chill air when the hills took his breath, it all gave him something else to focus on than the ever-present aching in his chest.
Just as his feet wandered, so did his thoughts, no matter how many times he tried to rein them in. He thought about how different last Christmas had been. He’d been appropriately cheerful…until he hadn’t. Ardeth had been there, Evy had gone about saying horrendous things about the pagans and mistletoe, and Jonathan had realized—or rather, admitted—his feelings for Ardeth. An absolutely dreadful thing to do, really, and then he’d spent the better part of the past year trying to ignore the feelings he’d realized—admitted—by breaking more hearts than his own, and…now he was right back where he’d started, except it was worse.
He was tired of thinking, and feeling, and longing, and suffering. He just wanted to go back to the way he used to be—thinking only of himself and Evy, and only leaving enough room in his heart for her, and those she cared about. What did he need to go around caring about people for? Why did he have to be in love with the most impossible, least-attainable person in the world? Or so it felt. Being in love was the main problem, of course, because he didn't want to be in love.
Such a thing was doomed to fail, for him.
But if he had to be in love, why couldn't he have fallen in love with someone else, anyone else? A bit out of the old comfort zone, being in love with anyone in general, but much more likely to succeed than with someone who was from a different country, a different world, someone far too perfect and brave and worthy for someone like him.
At the end of his walks, when the pale sun began to slip behind the horizon, or sooty clouds would blot out its weak light, he would return to the house shivering and stiff with cold, cheeks flushed and numb. He would, apparently, look so abysmal that Rick voluntarily and without prompting built up the fire, and Jonathan would stretch out in his armchair in front of it and stare into the flames until they burned out, because Rick had gone to bed, and Jonathan never noticed.
Sometimes he’d catch himself staring out at the frost-covered skeleton of the cottage’s garden, and unwillingly remember how, once upon a time, he’d imagined living in a place like this, with a garden like that, bees and butterflies in the summer, and…someone by his side. That image, vision, absolutely torturous and unattainable dream, whatever he wanted to call it, haunted him often. It wasn’t hard to imagine Ardeth in a garden, bathed in sunlight. It wasn’t hard to remember what he’d lost, and what he’d never have.
He hated that he'd gone and lost his heart again. The first time had been bad enough. He'd managed to claw some part of it back over the years, and now he'd gone and lost it all over again. It wasn't like he'd chosen to, of course, but that didn't make the whole situation any less unbearable.
It was a dreary little world Jonathan existed in, and he knew it was of his own making.
Not even Alex's enthusiasm for the holiday could fully pull him from the stupor he was in. Certainly, Alex brightened things up a bit, and Jonathan managed to put on a cheery face when he was around everyone else, for the most part. He smiled and laughed at all the correct times. He pretended to drink tea and eggnog that wasn't spiked with something stronger.
It was all an act. Because the truth of it was that he was utterly miserable, and he didn't know of a single thing he could do about it.
"I wish he would talk to me," Evy said to Rick one day, after Jonathan had left for yet another walk. "Or you, or anybody."
"I guess it's too much to ask that he'd actually talk to Ardeth?"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. I don't think he'd do that in a million years. Unless...." Evy paused, the gears in her head turning rapidly.
"What?"
"Well, what if I contacted Ardeth's sister, and—"
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Well, you haven't even heard the whole thing!"
"I can guess where it's going. You want to ask her some questions about Ardeth, and tell her some things about Jonathan, and get her to help you figure out a way to get them together. Right?"
"Right. Yes. Because, well, you've seen him, Rick, he looks awful, and he thinks he's fooling us into believing he's all right, but he isn't. Oh, I'm so worried about him." Evy sighed.
Rick wrapped his arms around her, and she laid her head against his chest.
It troubled Evy to see Jonathan so miserable, because of course it did...and in the back of her mind, it dredged up memories of a time when she'd thought she'd lost him forever. She didn't want that to happen again. "We've got to do something," she said.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"But what?” Evy pressed a hand to her forehead. “That's the problem—we can't just make up his mind for him."
"Well, I could try to talk to him,” Rick said, “In code, or something, so I don’t scare him off.”
Evy smiled and looked up to gently meet Rick's gaze. “Darling, I don’t want to seem rude, but…I’m not sure you’re…subtle enough to speak in code.”
“I’m damn well gonna try, anyway,” Rick said gruffly, a determined look in his eyes.
Evy kissed his cheek. “I know you will.”
++
When Jonathan returned from his walk around twilight, Rick built up the fire. Jonathan settled into his armchair near the hearth, looking as morose and tired as usual. He seemed thinner, too, which Rick really didn't like. He had half a mind to loom over his brother-in-law and demand he come to his senses. But that would probably just make things worse.
"Say, Jonathan," Rick said abruptly.
The odd note in his voice seemed to pull Jonathan from his thoughts. He glanced at Rick, and frowned. "Yes, what is it?"
"Well, I just wanted to ask...what's going on with you lately? You seem kinda...far off." Rick paused, briefly, then asked what he really wanted to ask, and hoped it was coded enough. "You pining for somebody or something?"
"What?" Jonathan exclaimed, nearly flying out of the armchair. His face grew red with astounding rapidity. "What would make you think such a thing?"
"Uh, no reason. I was just asking," Rick said quickly. "You know, just because you've seemed kinda distant lately, and I was wondering—"
"Did Evy put you up to this?" Jonathan demanded, glancing around the room as if he expected Evy to pop out from somewhere and squint at him.
"No," Rick said. Technically, it had been his idea to ask. And while it didn't really look like Jonathan was going to tell him anything, his sputtering was answer enough, whatever actual words came out of his mouth.
"Right, well." Jonathan sank back against his chair, fidgeting with the front of his sweater. "It just seems like something she would want to know. She's always saying ridiculous things about photographs and me and—well." Jonathan coughed. "As long as it's just you asking."
"Yeah, it's just me." Rick felt a bit guilty, lying to Jonathan's face like that, but a little white lie now and then helped the world go 'round, didn’t it? "So you're not pining for anybody?"
"No, of course not, don't be ridiculous!"
"Not...Polly?" Rick asked.
Jonathan looked taken aback, as if Polly had been the farthest person from his mind when the subject of 'pining' came up. "Oh." He cleared his throat. "No. I suppose not."
Rick just raised an eyebrow and didn't say anything. Yeah, he supposed not, too. "Then what's going on with you?"
"What do you mean? There's nothing going on with me."
Rick gave him a look, one that he'd more-or-less absorbed from Evy, that clearly said yeah right.
"Oh, come off it, Rick. Nothing's going on with me. It's just the weather, you know? I don't like winter."
"Mhm." Rick stood up from the hearth and put the poker back where it belonged. Sure, Jonathan didn't like the weather. That's why he kept going out in it for long, pining-filled walks. "Well, all right. I was just checking." He'd almost left the room when he stopped and turned around. "And hey, Jonathan?"
"Yes, Rick?"
"If you were pining for somebody, they'd probably be flattered about it. You're not half bad, you know."
"Oh please," Jonathan said, and turned back to the fire. But Rick thought he saw him smile.