alrighty, chapter 4. thanks for the reviews!!!!!!!!! hope you enjoy this chatper. yes, i know there's a resemblance between some things Maggie says and what the goat-herding woman says in thier converstations with Inman, but i didn't realize it until after i was re-reading and re-editing my story. oh well...it seems to work well.

Disclaimer: yep, you guessed it--nothing Cold Mountain belongs to me. only my solitary characters that only exist in my imagination belong to me.

Chapter 4: What can you see

His first day had quickly come and gone. It had been an awkward day for them both and she was somewhat glad it had passed. She wasn't use to having someone follow her around and she was equally unsure of what jobs to give him to do—she'd grown so use to doing everything herself. Both of these things he could sense—and it put him in an uncomfortable situation as he carried out the work.

She'd offered him a razor and mirror, and had about fallen off her chair when he returned clean-shaven. He really was quite handsome and now even more pleasant to look at. And...his hair seemed shorter, as though it would hang mid-forehead if combed straight. But it had a slight wave to it and at its varying lengths, it always had a tousled look to it that she liked. ...She couldn't believe she'd paid that close attention to his physical appearance and even had preferences about his look. Each moment she was around him, she seemed to discover something else that further endeared him to her, much to the disappointment of her mind.

"Maggie..." she stopped walking at the sound of Inman's voice. "What next?" she glanced back over his shoulder at the farmyard, hoping something would come to mind.

"Ummm...here," she raised one of the buckets she was carrying out for him, "you can come with me to get water. There's a lake not too far from here." The path down to the lake was well-worn from the many years of use and covered in light snow.

"How do you manage to draw from the lake without collecting pebbles or mud?" He asked. The only way he could think of was to wade out in the water—but in the middle of winter, that must be bitterly cold. She pushed aside a tree branch, revealing the decent sized lake—and suddenly, he knew the answer.

"This lake freezes solid in the middle of every winter." That's when Inman noticed a small pick in his bucket and looked up to see her start out across the ice. "The best place to find the cleanest ice is out in the middle. Come on." She turned around and beckoned for him to follow. A bit unsure, he stepped out onto the slick ice and slowly made his way out towards her. She knelt down on the pure white ice, pulled out he pick and began chiseling away. In no time, it seemed, he had joined her.

"John fell through the ice once. It was towards the end of winter, when the ice had thinned. He walked out to get water and fell right through. Lucky for him, Will was not but a little ways from the shore, chopping wood. But he still got a nasty cold, though. After that, he never volunteered to get water again." Inman had heard many stories about people who fell through thin ice—and many of them weren't so lucky. With their buckets full and them equally chilled, they headed for the shoreline. Inman couldn't wait—he would feel so much more comfortable on solid ground. The sun had come out and melted the top layer of ice, giving the lake a nice, slick, glossy surface. Her foot landed on some wet, slippery ice. What little traction she had was instantly lost and she fell backwards. Crashing softly into Inman, who had been following closely behind, broke her fall. He didn't even seem to be caught off guard and now supported her in his arms as she recovered from the shock of falling.

"Are you okay?" he asked, helping to steady her on her feet.

"Oh, yes. Yes, thank you." she found her balance and turned with a thankful smile. She was now so close to him and she filled with excitement.

"Here," he held out her water bucket, "Come one." He titled his head towards the cabin and continued, somewhat unsteadily on the ice. She nodded to herself and followed behind, trying to control her quickened breathing. That was the closest she'd ever been to him—not by his own choosing, of course. And she knew that nothing would ever pass between them—his heart was too far away. But then why...why was she beginning to give him hers? Maybe it was the ease with which he caught her in his strong arms, or the peace that enveloped him as he slept or could it be she wanted to mend the hurt in his eyes? It was something that she couldn't place and something that wasn't about to disappear, as she had hoped.

(later in the day)

The sun had been hidden by passing clouds now, only succeeding in making it feel colder. And even though her hands were gloved, they were still bitterly cold, something that she hoped would disappear when she set to work...when they set to work. Her firewood pile was running a bit low and it was something she used all year round, so off they had set into the woods. It was comforting to her his steps crunching softly in the snow behind her. Now she realized all the pressures living alone out here had caused her. Instead of being on her heightened guard, listening for any sound or looking for sight of anything, she was able to look at the woods and see, for the first time, something beautiful and feel content.

"Here's where I worked last time." She stopped walking and surveyed the small area with cut tree stumps and limbs littering the snow, "So, we can begin in this general area." He walked past her to the other side of the small clearing. She watched him raise the ax high before bringing it down squarely over a tree's trunk. Convinced he knew what he was doing, she turned and headed towards a large, downed tree. Most likely because of ice it just got too top heavy and snapped. She was in need of big, thick logs and could only get them when large trees fell. Holding her own ax high, she let it swing down in stroke after stroke. Before long, the tree lay in six good-sized pieces. Now came the more difficult part: stacking them on the wagon/sleigh. It had at one time been a child's sled, but once modified by her brothers, was very helpful for hauling heavy logs. As she walked over to it, the distinctive sound of wood-cutting could be heard and she could somewhat see Inman through the trees. Mustering her strength, she lifted the log over the edge of the wagon/sleigh. It thumped roughly on the bottom and she rolled it over to make room for more. She straightened up, grimacing, and braced her hands against her lower back. Damn—she'd forgotten to lift and carry from the knees, so her shoulder and lower back were screaming. With the pain subsiding, she faced Inman and was awe-struck. He had the ax raised up and instantly it was down, splitting a log cleanly down the middle. Time and time again, his ax fell, splitting the wood unbelievably clean.

"How did you get to be so good at that? Does it serve any practical purpose—other than proving one's skill?"

"The wood burns faster and makes more heat. Also, the supply tends to last a bit longer." He stacked the freshly chopped wood and set another to be split. "I worked odd jobs," SH-WOP, "back in Cold Mountain, doing whatever," SH-WOP, "needed doing."

"Well, that's one skill you obviously learned very well. I never knew it did any good—"

"Can you?"

"Can I? You mean...split wood?"

"Yeah...can you?" he stopped and gave her a challenging look.

"I could...at one time. I haven't done it in years."

"Come on..." he set a long on the tree stump, "It's a skill that will instantly come back." He stepped away and she moved forward, ax in hand. He slung his ax over his shoulder and watched to see—he believed she could. She raised the ax over her shoulder, took a deep breath, and let it go. SH-WOP. Two log halves fell on either side of the stump. Impressed, a small smile grew on Inman's face—for log splitting isn't easy and takes lots of practice. A proud smile grew quickly on her face as she turned to look at him and noticed, for the first time, his smile.

"See? It's a skill that once learned never leaves."

"Good thing. Now, thanks to you, I'll be able to make better use of the wood I find." She couldn't believe he was actually smiling.

"Good. Always glad to be of some help." He bent to pick up the log halves and she was so glad to have seen him smile. She thought he would look so much better if he smiled more often. Shaking those thoughts away, she returned to get the rest of the large tree she'd cut up earlier. Before too much longer, they started back for the cabin. The sun was beginning to dip behind the trees and the wood still had to be stacked and dinner cooked.

The wood pile was around the back of the cabin, stacked against the wall under the overhang. Next to it grew a good sized holly bush. It looked the same all year around, no matter the season.

"The red holly berries grow here year round—for that, I am thankful. Its nice to have some color in the middle of dreary winter." She flipped back her loose curls and looked at Inman, whose arms were full of firewood. He silently nodded, locking eyes with her for a brief second before moving on. He said very little, and she said enough. But it worked for both of them. For it was a comfort for her to know someone was listening; for him, a comfort to hear her talk—reminded him that there just might be some goodness and sweetness left in this war-ravaged world. And even though her presence was a constant portal for thinking of Ada, Maggie's talk and pleasing smile almost seemed to temporarily cure his deep longing for her.

(a while later)

The stew was finished, the bread heated up and the table set. It was later than usual, night fell upon the earth and the almost-full moon shone between the trees. Sliding her arm into her jacket, she stepped out on the porch to get Inman, who had been outside for some time.

"Oooo...," a shiver passed through her, "Aren't you freezing out here?" He said nothing, but continued looking at the night sky. "What can you see?" She asked, looking up at the shining stars. He turned and looked briefly at her, as though he just now noticed she was there, before looking up again.

"I wonder if the moon tires of watching the world."

"I suppose...," to her it seemed an odd thing to say, but yet it made her think, "there must be some things the moon has seen that have been too horrendous or foolish..., but it has to keep watching, through the good and bad—has to still be apart of everything..." She walked over and stood next to him, staring up at the moon herself.

"Like this war. To the moon, it must seem pointless. So much more has been lost than gained by it. People've turned feverish, many were lost—but the ones who survived remember...remember it all. I wonder...does such hurt wear away with time...or does it all stay?" He trailed off, suddenly not believing that he was letting himself open up to her so freely. He hadn't really done that before...not even to Ada.

"We're given pain, hurt and hardships, yes...but we're given joy and happiness also. And the heart holds onto the good, and the pain of bad, with time, never stays as vivid or sharp as it once was. In time, pain fades...and joy lasts." How well she knew it to be true. The pain of her brothers' loss had dulled with the passing months, but the joy from the memories was as strong and real as it was when they were together as a family. Inman'd heard the same thing from the goat-herding woman, and it stuck him as odd that both these women believed in the same thing. Then, pain fading must be true...a part of him wanted to believe it, but somewhere his senses were telling him it never would be. Knowing there wasn't a way to find an answer, he lowered his eyes from the sky above, back down to earth and to Maggie's trusting hazel eyes that almost sparkled in the moonlight.

"Blame me if dinner's cold. I shouldn't have rambled on...," he said apologetically, turning towards the cabin.

"No—don't worry. At times, we all need someone to talk to or just someone who will listen."

"Or both?" he cast her a quick glance.

"Or both." She agreed meeting his eyes with hers. They walked up the steps and into the cabin, a quiet understanding passing between them.

"Don't you ever get lonely out here?" he asked as he sat at the table.

"I'd never really allowed myself to think about it—but at times, yes, I get lonely. It comes and goes..."

"As do all things..."

"How is it you seem to know so much?" Immediately, she regretted asking. But he seemed to know so much about life and about people that it fascinated her.

"War...changes men—makes them see things they never saw before, and as a result, things can never look the same again. Every emotion known, and sometimes unknown, to man in present in the trenches—it changes a person...and when it ends, he wonders if he could ever go back..." Much to her surprise he had answered.

"You'll go back—sure, things probably won't be the same. I don't know the things you saw, and I'm not pretending to—but the past does not haunt forever. When you get back to Ada, the happiness you feel with her will, over time, help the bad times to fade away."

"If she's even still waiting. Its been four years to the day since I left Cold Mountain."

"Four years is a long time...but if she ever looked at you the same way you looked at her picture, then I'll guarantee she's waiting for you." Her heart sunk as his eyes lit up. She'd not thought about Ada since the night he arrived when he had pulled out her photo, until now. Now, when she...she loved him. She couldn't believe she was admitting it to herself. There was no point to loving him, for soon, he would leave and she'd never see him again.... She tried desperately not to think about that day—it made her sad already and the day hadn't even come yet. She took to eating again, having shoved all her thoughts to the back of mind, hoping they would sort themselves out over time. Neither said anything more. There just didn't seem to be much else left to say.


well, there ya go. review if'n ya want! the next chapter should be up hopefully pretty soon...