by Katy Paige
“No contest,” she challenged, hands on her hips.
“So you say. Think you can take down a city mouse? Bold words, Kitten.”
“Time for you to see some of the park.”
“Pick you up here in an hour?”
She smiled at him, wishing she never had to say good-bye. “In half an hour.”
***
Sam was driving, but Jenny was in charge.
They entered the park via the Roosevelt Arch, and Jenny told Sam just to keep going straight on I-89 into Wyoming. Her plan was for them to drive the Grand Loop Road, a 140-mile tour, past Mt. Washburn and back to Gardiner. It would take them around the Rim of the Caldera, and they should be able to see a fair smattering of animals: bear, deer, bison, bighorn sheep, elk. She crossed her fingers. With wildlife, there were no guarantees.
Jenny knew this part of the park like the back of her hand, and the Grand Loop was the best way to get an overview of the northern park when you only had half a day to spare. It wasn’t more than a three- or four-hour drive at most, even if they stopped once or twice, so they should be back in time for her to make it to Sunday supper at her father’s house at four.
She had packed sandwiches, chips, and apples for their lunch, and Sam had some soft country music playing. Jenny kicked off her boots, relaxing in the passenger seat, trying to savor these last few hours with Sam.
Enjoy yourself. You can be sad tomorrow after you’ve said good-bye. Don’t let it ruin today.
“Some folks say the Grand Loop is like a safari. You’re definitely going to see some wildlife, Sam. It’s just a matter of what and how much.” She glanced over at him. He’d changed back into jeans and looked casually powerful in the small bucket seat of his rental car. He belonged in a truck or an SUV, she decided, not a little sedan. “Just keep your eyes open. We’ll stop in a little bit to check out Mammoth Springs. It’s coming up soon.”
“Mammoth Springs?”
“Hot springs. They’re really interesting, I promise. We can park and walk around on the boardwalk a little bit. The springs are especially beautiful in the winter because you can barely tell where the white calcium deposits end and the snow begins. And it’s going to be all misty with the fog. You’d think with all the salt and heat, the snow wouldn’t have a chance, but it somehow manages to stay cold.”
He glanced over at her and smiled. “Your dad brought you to the park a lot growing up?”
“Dad’s an expert on northern Yellowstone, and all of the boys help with the business. Nils is good with the business side, and the ladies love Erik, but when it comes to Yellowstone, I think Lars knows the most.”
“And you?”
“I only lead private tours,” she said, winking at him playfully.
“Oh, I see. Lots of private tours?”
“Nope. I have a client list of one.”
“Any chance it could stay that way?”
“You’ll have to let me know how I do.”
“So far? Awful. You should never give another private tour again.”
She burst into giggles and hit him lightly on the shoulder. “What do you know, city slicker?”
“If you want to sharpen your skills,” he offered, “I’d be glad to be a repeat customer.”
“Hard to make that promise from Chicago,” she observed. She had meant the comment to be light, but it fell with a thud, and she cringed at her clumsiness.
Quit it, Jen. Today is supposed to be fun, not sad!
“Never say never, Kitten.” Sam turned into the parking lot for the springs and winked at her. “Life can be surprising.”
***
They stopped at the Norris Geyser Basin, where Sam took pictures of Jenny with his iPhone. They skipped Old Faithful—Jenny declared it was overrated and not as “faithful” as it used to be, sometimes making the tourists wait almost two hours for an eruption—and drove in companionable silence for a while beside the Yellowstone River, taking in amazing views of the Teton and Absaroka Mountains.
At one point, a herd of four bison crossed the road in front of them, and Sam watched them in amazement as Jenny rattled off fun and interesting facts about Yellowstone’s bison population.
No, he didn’t know that a bison’s winter coat is so thick and well insulated that snow can cover their backs without melting. One of the few new fun facts he had at his disposal, he thought with a smile.
He was blown away by her breadth of knowledge and how handy it was for her, pulling fascinating facts out of her head and sharing just the right amount of information to keep her dialogues captivating, not boring. No wonder her father’s tours were in year-round demand. If Jenny was any indication, he was well worth the cost, whatever he charged.
They headed back up north toward Gardiner and had been driving for a while in the quiet of the car when she said, “Tell me about your mom. How’d a nice Swedish girl from Choteau end up in Chicago?”
He smiled at her sideways, then turned his gaze back to the road. “My mom, Margaret, and her sister, Lisabet, were small-town girls. Churchgoers. Potluck dinners and summer picnics on the green. Long braids woven with flowers at Midsummer. A lot like someone else I know, Jenny.”
He flicked his gaze to her, smiling, thinking about how much his mother and aunt would approve of Jenny if they ever got the chance to meet her.
“Go on,” she urged him.
“My grandparents owned a bed-and-breakfast-style lodge up there in Choteau. Mostly for hikers headed to the Rockies or people from Great Falls looking for an overnight getaway. That sort of thing. My mother and aunt worked at the lodge, which, by the way, is not in my family anymore but is a pretty swanky vacation spot, if you’re ever looking for a place to stay north of Great Falls. Indoor pool, spa, wrap-around porch, helipad, amazing views, gourmet restaurant. You’d like it.”
“Maybe I’ll check it out sometime.”
“My dad, who was born and bred in Chicago, was—and still is, actually—a curator at the Field Museum in Chicago, with a specialty in paleontology. I don’t know if you know this, Miss Montana, but Choteau is near one of the most important paleontology sites in the world: Egg Mountain. Egg Mountain was discovered in 1977, and my father was sent west in 1978 to collect various specimens to be put on display in the Field Museum. He was sent up there for a week, and of course…”
“He needed a place to stay!” she finished for him, her voice conveying how engaged she was in the story.
“Bingo!”
“So how did it happen?”
“Well, there he was every night at dinner, dusty and tired. He wears glasses, my dad. One night he was sitting quietly by himself eating dinner, and my mom came over to him, and without saying a word, she gently took his glasses off and cleaned them with her breath and her apron before she put them back on his face. When she did, she said, ‘Now I can see your eyes, Sean.’ After that, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.” He was thoughtful for a moment, thinking of his parents, how in sync they were, how loving, such good friends. Out of the blue, he realized how much he wanted a marriage like that for himself one day. Someone who loved him, someone who set his heart on fire but was still his best friend.
“They’re a love match,” he blurted out, an extension of his thoughts. “They’re best friends. Everything they do is better or more fun if they do it together. You can tell that about them. He told me one time that after he found her, he couldn’t imagine his life without her.”
Jenny sighed beside him and cocked her head to the side. “Why didn’t they stay in Choteau near her folks?”
“Because she was a maid in her parent’s lodge, and he was a rising, young curator of a world-famous museum. It wouldn’t have made sense for him to stay in Choteau.”
“But her family—”
“She missed them, of course, but where there’s a will, there’s a way. She figured out how to stay close to her sister and parents.” Sam sensed they weren’t talking about his parents anymore and wanted to tread very softly
, choosing his words carefully. “She lived in the Chicago suburbs and raised her family near her husband’s work. But we were here in Montana a lot, Jenny. It took some planning and driving and commitment, but we were here regularly. I told you, I love Montana. That’s all because of my mom.” He paused, then added, “Going to Chicago with my dad didn’t mean abandoning her childhood home or her family. She married my dad—”
“And left her family.”
Sam took a deep breath and held it, trying to figure out what to say next. If he was trying to use his parents as a model for his and Jenny’s future, it wasn’t going well. She was getting upset, and she wasn’t hearing what he was trying to say.
“Yes,” he said, keeping his voice level and soft. “But they were still her family, and she still made time for them. Look how close I am to Kris. Isn’t that evidence that it all worked out?”
She didn’t say anything, and a tentative silence filled the car as he continued driving. When he looked over at her, she was chewing her bottom lip, brow furrowed.
“Looks like waterfalls up ahead, Jen. Great Falls. Fitting last stop, huh?”
“Sure,” she said uncertainly. “It’s worth a look.”
***
As they approached Gardiner, Jenny checked her watch. She had to be at her dad’s house in thirty minutes. Their drive was almost over, which meant their time together was almost over…and her resolve to be cheerful was starting to crumble.
“What time is it?” asked Sam.
“I have half an hour.”
“Today went fast,” he noted.
“We should stop so you can check out the arch,” she said softly. “It’s the major attraction of Gardiner. Who knows when you’ll be back?”
He nodded and parked on a snowy patch of grass in an adjacent parking lot. Neither of them made a move to get out of the car, each feeling the emotional impact of Jenny’s words. She stared down at her hands, willing back the tears that threatened to gather in her eyes. Sam shifted in his seat to face her and reached over to take her hand in his. She looked up, and the tenderness in his eyes was her undoing. The first tear made its lazy way down her cheek, past her nose to rest on her lip.
“Jenny,” he murmured, searching her eyes, “we need to talk.”
He got out of the car and perched on top of a picnic table, looking out at the mountains, waiting for her. She opened her door and walked the few steps to sit beside him.
***
Sam took her hand in his, rubbing his fingers over her palm and stroking it with the pad of his thumb, his head down, trying to figure out how to begin.
Finally, he turned to her.
“Jenny, I’ve never met anyone like you, ever. I know we’re still getting to know each other, so this might seem kind of crazy…but I just know for sure I’m not ready to say good-bye to you tomorrow. I know it should be impossible for me to have feelings this strong after only three days, but…” He shook his head, looking down at their hands, then back up at her face, seizing her eyes with a fierce longing. “I do. I am falling for you so hard, and you’re here, and I have to go home, and it feels awful to think of being so far away from you.”
Jenny’s eyes filled with more tears as he spoke to her, and they rolled freely down her face. He reached up and held her face between his hands, dipping his head toward her, placing his lips on each errant drop until her face was covered with kisses instead of tears. Then he reached around to his hip pocket and pulled out an envelope. Her eyebrows creased with questions, looking up at him as he offered it to her.
She opened the envelope and unfolded the papers inside as he explained.
“They’re tickets for Christmas break. I thought maybe you’d consider coming to see me. You could see what Chicago’s like, and we could give this a chance, whatever’s between us.” He smiled at her hopefully when she lifted her eyes. “It’s not as bad as you think. Maybe you’d even like it there—”
“Oh, Sam. I can’t go to Chicago.”
“Why not?”
“Because my family’s here. My father and my brothers are here. My life is here.” Wide, watery eyes regarded him. She held the papers in her hand, and they fluttered in the cold afternoon wind. “I can’t just leave them.”
“I’m not asking you to leave them forever…” yet. “Just come to visit. Just a visit.”
“Sam…I’m…I can’t.” She sniffled. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea or send you the wrong message, and that’s what I would be doing by visiting. I’d be telling you Chicago’s possible for me.”
“Because it’s a city?” The sting of his disappointed hopes made him grimace. “You wanted to live in Great Falls.”
“You can’t compare the two! Great Falls is in Montana. It’s only five hours away from here. Chicago’s a plane ride away. There are over two million people in Chicago. I’d be lost. I’d be swallowed up. The littlest fish in the biggest pond.” Jenny closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. She whispered, “I can’t go. I’d be giving you false hope.”
As she folded up the papers, putting them carefully back into the envelope, he gulped over the growing lump in his throat.
“Sam,” she said, her voice thready with emotion, “I’m not ready to say good-bye either. I’ve never felt like this. Never in my life. You know I have feelings for you, don’t you?”
He nodded once, feeling a small flicker of hope, but it was quickly replaced by the realization that while she cared for him, she didn’t care enough to come to visit. When he didn’t cover her hand with his, she reached out farther and placed her hand over his heart. “You know I care for you, Sam. You know I do.”
He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm, lovingly, longingly. When he looked up, his eyes besieged her. “Then please, Jenny. Come and visit me.”
“I can’t.” Her eyes shone brightly with unshed tears.
“You won’t.”
He kissed her palm again then folded it closed and placed it back on her lap.
She stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Sam, think of it the other way around. Could you ever live here? In Gardiner? Be happy here?”
He was shocked to hear a glimmer of hope in her voice. Had she hoped he could possibly make Gardiner his home? Unthinkable. He had a position with a major bank in Chicago. Her suggestion was absurd.
He turned to face her, his face hardened, his mouth a tight line. “No. Absolutely not.”
She nodded slowly, as if figuring something out for the first time, and her voice was cooler when she spoke. “So there it is. I can’t be there, and you can’t be here.”
“You could be,” he said. “You choose not to be.”
“So do you. I’m sorry,” she said, taking the envelope from the table beside her and giving it back to Sam.
“Me too.”
He took the envelope and pushed it back into his pocket, hopping down from the table, kicking the dirt angrily as he headed back to the car.
Without looking at her, he sat down, slamming the door closed loudly behind him. The engine turned over, and Jenny came to his window, tapping softly. He pushed the button to roll it down but didn’t look at her.
“I’m going to walk home,” she said. “I think that’s best.”
“Whatever,” he muttered.
“Please, Sam. Please say you understand.”
“It doesn’t matter, Jen.” He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t bear for her to see how much he wanted her, how much he needed her.
“I-I’ll see you t-tomorrow?” she asked between soft sobs. “In Livingston?”
“I’ll be there. I promised Kris.”
Then he rolled up the window and drove away from her without looking back, banging on the steering wheel twice in frustrated sorrow, unfamiliar tears stinging his eyes.
Chapter 9
Today I say “I do.”
It was Jenny’s first thought when she opened her puffy eyes, still raw from crying last night. Somehow, probably because the Lindstrom kids
were encouraged to “tough it out” in lieu of tears, she had made it through Sunday supper at her father’s house without breaking down. But holding in her feelings for those two hours made the tears flow all the more freely—all the angrier and more frustrated—when she got back to her lonely apartment.
Casey stirred in the kitchen, and Jenny checked her clock: 6:45 a.m. She didn’t have to leave for Livingston for an hour and a half.
Thoughts of their final conversation at the arch yesterday made her heart clench. She turned onto her side in bed, drawing her knees up and hugging herself. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to take those vows today. It wouldn’t be so bad if we had just said good-bye yesterday once and for all.
She knew that wasn’t completely true. The vows were only incidental to her pain. Yes, the memory of saying the words to Sam would compound her sorrow once he was gone. But it was his absence from her that would be at the crux of her regret. Their heartbreaking exchange didn’t change Jenny’s feelings for him. If anything, she cared for him more after hearing him share his feelings and voicing her own at the arch. She wanted to see Sam today; she just wished they didn’t have to say good-bye.
She was honest with Sam when she said she had never felt anything like this in her life. The closest word she could think of was love, and yet any rational person knew you couldn’t fall in love with someone over the course of a long weekend. Love took months, years even, to develop properly: Meeting each other and moving from acquaintance to friendship to courtship. Building a relationship over a series of dates and meetings. Introducing each other to friends and family over time. Seeing each other through some of life’s challenges and overcoming them together. Then finally, finally knowing with certainty there is love between you and committing to a marriage. She had only known Sam for three days; it couldn’t possibly be love.
And yet it felt the way Jenny always imagined love would feel.
Every free moment from Friday afternoon to now, her mind had been consumed with Sam. When she was without him, she longed to be with him. When she was with him, she yearned for more from him than his presence. She battled a constant, unrequited hunger for more dialogue, more discussion, a return of her increasingly passionate feelings. It felt impossible that he would care for her when Jenny had seen the women who populated his life in Chicago. He could have a supermodel by his side, but he wanted Jenny. It made her feel special and cherished, like she was something precious to someone who had his pick of beautiful things, and gave him a depth and authenticity that captivated her heart. It was as if he saw through the outward layers of her plainness, beelining with meticulous precision to her heart, which he seemed to see with clarity and regard with…with what, Jenny? Love?
