A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here's one of the longer chapters.

Give us Peace - So glad you liked the forest scene. I hardly ever go to the forest, even though I love it, because it's not really nearby. We do have a lake nearby though... good for me - I love sailing. Tried to bring some of the peaceful feelings I get from sailing into the previous chapter. Seems it worked. Grin. Thanks for the review!

AJeff - Thanks! LOL. I think this is the first time I've heard "Nice and Slow" and " It's exciting" in the same sentence. Glad you're still enjoying!

Chapter 7

Tuesday, 28th of December, 2004

On Tuesday morning, Nancy and Clint were trying to decide what they would do. It didn't really matter to either of them what they would do, they just enjoyed each other's company. They had already taken the horses for a ride, but they figured it would be a waste if they were here for a week and didn't even go into town aside from going to church.

That's when Harley suggested they try out the new ice rink. Clint was a bit sceptical, since he had only skated once before, and that was with his mother – his real mother – when she'd still been alive. He couldn't even remember it very well.

"Oh, come on Clint, it will be fun. I can teach you if you like," Nancy offered, her eyes shining with excitement. "Please?"

Who was he to resist? When she looked at him like that, there were few things he wouldn't do for her. "Alright."

"Could you first do some groceries for me?" Dottie asked. "I forgot some things yesterday. We should have enough for a few more days, but with that unpredictable weather, I'd rather have a bit more, just in case."

"Sure thing," Clint and Nancy agreed. By the time they came back from the groceries, Dottie had lunch ready. So it was after lunch, before they bundled up, and headed towards the ice rink. There were some other people, but mostly it was quiet. It seemed odd since it was Christmas holiday for the schools, but they were told it was because the parents would only get back from work towards the end of the afternoon, before they would take their kids to skate. Nancy and Clint rented some skates, and as they took their first tentative steps on the ice, Nancy admitted it had been a couple of years for her as well since she last skated.

They took it slowly at first, getting used to standing on two irons on a slippery wet floor. Nancy started to move a bit, skating a few metres, then returning to Clint. The doctor – who didn't stick out here as much as he did in New York – had watched a couple of more experienced people, and figured he'd give it a shot.

Nancy giggled. She couldn't help it. She had never seen Clint so unbalanced. He wasn't usually clumsy, but you wouldn't be able to tell, if you saw him now. He had managed to skate a few metres, before the irons started to slip out from underneath him, and his arms made large motions to try and keep upright. How he had managed, she still didn't know, but he did. Meanwhile, she had gotten the feeling back, and went towards her friend.

"Come on, we'll try it together."

Holding onto Nancy's hand, Clint slowly started to get the rhythm. But as he looked up to smile at her, he lost his balance, and fell onto the ice, dragging Nancy with him.

"Whoops, sorry," Clint apologised, but once Nancy had recovered from the unexpected fall, she waved it off. "Everyone falls the first time they're on the ice. Let's get up, we're just getting wet here."

Nancy climbed to her feet in seemingly no time, while Clint took his time. Every time he thought he was almost there, he felt one of his feet slip away, but he managed. After another half hour, he was an expert in climbing to his feet.

He had told Nancy to go ahead. She'd catch up with him easily. She alternated between skating a couple of rounds on her own, and skating along with Clint. Finally, Clint was able to stay upright, move in one direction, without falling, and even pick up some speed.

Until he realised that there was neither steer nor brakes on ice-skates. As he climbed up from yet another fall, he looked up at the approaching Nancy. "You know, Nancy… given the choice between riding a bull and ice skating… I'd definitely go for the bull."

Nancy burst out laughing, and slipped her arm around his waist. "That's my cowboy." She didn't even seem to realise what she'd said, but Clint did, and wondered whether she'd meant it in the general sense, or whether she really meant 'my' cowboy. Since she didn't look in his direction, he pushed the sense of hope and excitement he'd felt back down, to the corner of his heart he didn't dare venture too often. Although it seemed to get much more difficult to keep those elated feelings from bubbling to the surface lately…

In the end, Clint got the hang of it, and actually started to enjoy it. But by that time, they were pretty cold, and it was starting to get more crowded. They decided to leave, and Clint took her to the diner to get a cup of hot chocolate. As they walked in, Clint noticed the four old men sitting at the table in the corner by the window, and shook his head. Nothing had changed in that respect. Absentmindedly, he wondered who had won the bet on Samantha and him not lasting longer than two weeks, but immediately he forgot it again.

Clint did walk over to greet them, and he introduced nurse Nancy Nichol to the guys, who returned the pleasantries, some nodding politely. Both Nancy and Clint noticed the speculative gleam in all four pairs eyes, and had to force themselves to refrain from rolling theirs, but once they had sat down at another table, and shared a look, they burst out laughing.

They settled down somewhat, and chatted about everything and nothing. Nancy made Clint agree to go ice skating with her in New York sometime, and Clint agreed. He might prefer bull riding to ice skating for himself, but he had relished in watching the excitement shining throughout Nancy's entire being as she had crossed the ice. If it meant that he had to put on the slippery shoes to see that excitement in Nancy's eyes again, he'd gladly do it, even if it meant earning himself a couple of bruises.

When they left the diner, the four old guys started a new wager.

Clint knew Dottie and Harley were invited by friends to have supper and spend the evening, so they would be on their own for the evening. Not that he minded in the least, but it did mean they'd have to cook for themselves, and Clint had the feeling that the snow wouldn't hold out much longer.

They hadn't been inside for long, when it started. First there was just a light cover of the white fluffy good, but soon it started snowing in earnest. Clint had gotten the fire started, and Nancy had started preparing supper. They finished it together, keeping up a light banter as they went along, and settled down to eat. After finishing the dishes, Clint went back to checking the fire. He was just putting on an extra log, when Nancy walked in with hot chocolate with cream.

As she handed Clint his mug, their hands touched lightly. There was a loud pop from the fireplace, and a spark flashed up. Nancy and Clint both startled, and they chuckled, a little embarrassed at their own reactions. "Thanks." Clint indicated the mug.

"You're welcome." Nancy smiled, glad for the fire as an excuse for the heat she felt on her cheeks. They settled down on the couch, each engrossed in a book. Sometimes they would point something out from their books, edging closer to the other to read. In the end, Nancy had put a cushion against Clint's side, and was leaning against him. Both were consciously aware of it, but it felt good, and as long as the other was comfortable as well, neither was going to complain.

Soft piano notes drifting through the room woke Nancy from her slumber on the couch. First she thought it was a CD, but she was facing the CD player, and it looked suspiciously dark. Curiosity piqued, she sat up slowly and looked around. There were a few lamps turned on, but the fire was the biggest source of light in the room.

She remembered that she had been comfortably leaning against Clint. Apparently she had nodded off and fallen asleep. But Clint wasn't there anymore. Deciding to follow the music, she noticed that the door in the corner, which had been closed before, was now ajar. Quietly she walked up to the door, and peeked through the opening. Clint was partially turned away from her, but she could still see part of his face. His hands caressed the piano keys, bringing forth a beautiful melody. When the song ended, Clint opened his eyes, and noticed Nancy's reflection in the window.

"Want to join?" he asked softly, startling Nancy.

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt," she apologised. Clint turned his upper body, and smiled at her. "You didn't." He slid to the right on the piano stool, making room for Nancy, and patted the empty space next to him. She hesitated for a moment. "I don't know. It's been ages. I don't think I've remembered a lot."

Actually, she did remember a lot… how her mother never seemed to have time to come to recitals or concerts.

"You won't have to play," Clint prodded, guessing where her thoughts were leading her. He remembered her outburst at Elaine when he'd been trying to get them to talk. He could imagine that playing a piano would bring back some unpleasant memories. But maybe she could replace them with some nicer memories.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, but had really only been a few seconds, Nancy nodded, and carefully sat down next to Clint. He waited till Nancy seemed ready, and started to play again. A different tune this time, but it touched something deep within Nancy.

The music brought back memories of times when her mother had called to say she couldn't pick her up from the music school. She remembered how the piano teacher would look at her with pity, when for the umpteenth time, her mother forgot to pick her up, and they had had to call her father from his store.

The tones seemed to soften, and she remembered how she had come to learn playing piano. Her mother had taken her in her lap, and had sat down behind the instrument, first playing melodies and lullabies… then, when the curious young girl's fingers had reverently extended towards the piano, her mother had gently guided her small fingers across the keys. They had sat like that many times.

They were memories she hadn't allowed herself to look at for so long, she had forgotten they existed. But now they came flooding back to her.

The tune changed again slightly, until a peaceful feeling settled over her.

Slowly she opened her eyes, having just discovered she had closed them. She could feel the movements of Clint's arms as he played, and she noticed that even though his head was bowed a little, he was watching her closely. It was as if he'd felt what she had felt, and suddenly, she was aware of her heart racing again. She wasn't sure if he could feel it too, but she was conscious of the fact that they were sitting very close.

And for the first time, she allowed the thought that perhaps she had really fallen in love with this man.

Little did she know that similar thoughts were going through Clint's mind. All she knew was that she needed more time to analyse the thought. Clint's hands had come to a halt a few seconds ago; the last tones carried through the room and mingled with the silence, until that was all that was left.

"You never told me you could play!" Nancy broke the silence before it could become awkward. Clint grinned, and replied, "Sure I did… I showed you I could play guitar."

Nancy rolled her eyes, and gently smacked his arm. "The piano, I mean."

"Well, I do have one in my apartment you know," Clint teased. "And you never asked why I had one."

"Perhaps I thought you would tell me if you wanted me to know," Nancy replied ambiguously.

"Or perhaps you were afraid of facing your mother's memories…?" Clint asked quietly, hoping he hadn't gone too far. Her breath caught, and her first instinct was to deny it, but then she took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, perhaps that was part of it as well…"

"You ok?" Clint asked, gently taking her hand into his.

"Yeah. Thanks." She didn't elaborate on what she was thanking him for, merely looked him in the eyes. More wasn't necessary, as her eyes and that one word conveyed everything Clint needed to know.

"So… tell me, how come you have a piano in your apartment?" Nancy asked, a genuine smile spreading across her face. Clint raised his eyebrow, and pretended to think.

"I'm pretty sure it was Nate and me carrying her inside." At her look, he laughed, and conceded. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you." He looked at the instrument before him, and asked, "Remember ol' Peter Stanford? The guy with MS?" At Nancy's nod of remembrance, he continued. "He died two years ago. He was a piano player, wrote his own pieces… But the MS robbed him of his ability to actually play for the most part of the year. He didn't have any family, lived alone with a nurse to help him out, very few friends, so I sometimes went to visit him. One time when I was there, he was frustrated for not being able to listen to the composition he'd written. I offered to play it for him. From that point on, whenever I was there, I'd play the piano. He taught me some tricks as well. … When he died, he left the piano to me. One of 'em anyway." He chuckled, remembering how adamant the man had been that Clint kept the piano. "So, that's how I ended up with a piano."

Nancy shook her head. "Only Clint Cassidy. But how did you learn to play?"

Clint looked down for a moment, then gave her a lopsided grin. "Dottie taught me. Did you know she was a music teacher? My mom…" he trailed off for a moment. "My mom was good friends with Dottie. 't Was because of my mom that I started, even though at the time I was more interested in playing guitar, like my dad."

So both of them had learned to play the instrument through their mothers. Nancy looked at the man sitting next to her, could sense that he was remembering something specific about his mother. This was actually one of the few times he had told her about his mother. She wondered if he did it on purpose, or because perhaps he didn't have as many memories of her. All she really knew was that his father had died of cancer, when Clint was ten, and that, from that moment on, he'd come to live with Doc Johanson and his wife.

"You ok?" she asked after a moment. Clint nodded, let go of a breath, and gave her hand a little squeeze. "Yeah. I'm ok." Nancy squeezed back, and they both turned to look at the instrument which brought up so many memories for both of them. 'Well,' Nancy thought, 'at least I now know why I've never heard Clint play before…' It was too private. He had only offered to play to a man whose life used to revolve around music, because he couldn't play any longer himself.

Yet he'd played for her, minutes ago. Until now, she hadn't wanted to touch the instrument. But now… Her fingers reached out, and carefully touched the keys. Looking up, she asked, "May I?"

"Go ahead," Clint nodded.

Uncertain at first, Nancy slowly pressed some keys, reacquainting her fingers with the feel of a piano. Then slowly, she let herself be immersed with the music, and even though she made quite some mistakes along the way, she knew that this was one of her best recitals.

They decided to go for a walk. Clint had been right; it had started to snow a while ago, and already there was a little layer covering the ground. And still it continued to snow. But even though it was beautiful, it was also very cold, so they soon returned to the warmth of the living room. Clint quickly checked on the animals, whether the doors were properly shut, and Nancy prepared some tea, and soon they were cuddled up on the couch with their books again. When the doctor and his wife arrived home twenty minutes later, they found both asleep. Clint was sagged down on one side of the couch, his head leaned back, and Nancy was lying on the couch, leaning her head on a cushion on Clint's thigh.

They were just debating on whether to wake them, when Clint woke up from their quiet voices. Doc Johanson and Dottie sat down in the two chairs, warming up by the fire, which still burnt slightly. They told Clint about their evening, and Clint told them a bit of theirs. Harley and Dottie smiled at each other as Clint tenderly brushed a hair from Nancy's face. When Nancy woke up, and realised she had fallen asleep again, she blushed, but Dottie told her not to worry about it; that Clint had also been asleep when they arrived.

They sat together for another fifteen minutes before they decided the day had lasted long enough, and they went to bed.

A/N: On to chapter eight.