A Vermont Elopement

An Excerpt:

It’s snowing outside the cabin, the sort of snow that cloaks the woods in silence. 

It’s just the two of them inside.

Jen—flannel pajamas, hot cocoa, grinning at the dress in the corner. 

Garret—flannel bathrobe, black coffee, grinning at her.

Breakfast is from a waffle maker brought from home, the same one from the first date. Garret makes the batter, cinnamon and sugar, and Jen makes an elm chai.

It was four miles in snowshoes to the peace of this morning. Four years of hiking dates, climbing dates, camping dates. Four excited parents who took the ski-lift in, getting ready in the cabin next door. 

When Jen’s mom Beth comes in, she shouts, “Marriage morning!” five times then bestows a custom maple syrup bottle upon them. January Ninth is engraved on the glass over etched mountains. 

“This is, like, violently Vermont,” says her dad. He’s making a valiant attempt to sound grumpy but the joy’s on his lips, his eyes, his voice.

Garret’s parents arrive a moment later, his mom with the groom’s dark hair, his dad with the same golden laugh.

They gather at the table, and trade stories of Jen and Garret as children. How Garret had tried to ski these slopes before he ever talked. How Jen would spend every summer in college here in these woods.

Everyone knows this mountain made them.