Parker threw back her head and laughed. “Poor baby. They never let you have a puppy?”
“No.” Campbell pretended to pout, but her heart was light with the knowledge that she’d made Parker laugh so easily. “Sammy and I begged and begged, but Dad said it was too cold to have a small dog around the slopes, and Mom didn’t want a big dog messing up her nice house and yard.”
“That’s just tragic.” Parker’s eyes danced in the moonlight reflecting off the snow. “What about now?”
Campbell shrugged. “Guess that’s just one of those things you let go of as you get older.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I don’t think you’re too old for a puppy.”
Campbell grinned. Her evening chores had never been so enjoyable as they were tonight. She always enjoyed the view, and the work was pleasant enough, but with Parker by her side she felt more alive than she had in months.
After some more time on the groomer, Campbell turned it toward the entrance of one of the steeper trails. She stopped at the edge, just before the slope took a drastic downward turn. “See that bar under the dash there?” She pointed to a metal bar just above the floor. “Put your feet up on it.”
“Okay,” Parker said. “What is it?”
Fighting to suppress a grin Campbell casually answered, “It’s an ‘oh-shit’ bar.”
“What’s it for?” Parker asked suspiciously.
“I’ll show you.” She nudged the groomer forward over the steepest part of the run, causing the machine to move onto the slope at a sharp fifty-degree angle, the front of the cab pointing downward.
Parker, unprepared for the incline, threw her hands on the dash and muttered, “Oh, shit.” She instantly locked her knees, bracing against the bar and pinning herself back against the seat.
Campbell gave a loud, body-shaking laugh. “You’ve got the hang of it.”
“Jesus.” Parker exhaled. “It feels like we’re going to fall right over.”
“Relax,” Campbell said. “Really. I’ll take good care of you.” Without thinking, she placed a hand on Parker’s shoulder and gently massaged the tense muscles with her fingertips. For a fleeting second she thought about telling her how absolutely stunning she was when she let down her guard, but she worried about opening herself up to Parker.
Parker’s lips parted slightly in surprise. “I believe you.”
Those deep brown eyes melted Campbell. Suddenly her throat went dry and her stomach clenched. She’d never seen such trust in Parker’s expression before, and she felt inexplicably vulnerable for the first time in months. She didn’t like the sensation. Vulnerably meant opening herself to pain, and she wasn’t ready to take that chance again. Almost involuntarily she broke their contact, letting her hand fall onto the seat. Silence filled the cab as she turned the groomer around and headed back up the mountain, this time the incline forcing them back into their seats.
“So, Ms. Riley.” If they were going to build a more meaningful connection, it was time to learn more about Parker. “What’s a classy woman like you doing in Bear Run, Wisconsin?”
Parker laughed with only a hint of nervousness. “I wanted to get free ski lessons and Sno-Cat tours.”
Campbell smiled at the clever attempt to dodge the question, but she didn’t bite. “So you’re not ready to talk about it?”
Parker gazed out the window into the darkness, and Campbell knew she would talk in her own time, not a minute sooner. She had probably been startled enough for one evening, so when they reached the top of the mountain, Campbell decided to go up only the steep grades and back down the gentler trails. They had just pulled onto the green trail they’d skied a few days early when Parker finally spoke.
“I was very good at getting people elected, selling a candidate to the voters, but I wasn’t all that great at determining which of them were worthy of being elected in the first place.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I worked for a man named Tim Brady and I thought he was the real deal.”
Campbell nodded, hearing the pain just below the surface of Parker’s steady tone. She knew a little about Tim Brady from the few news stories that made national headlines. As she recalled, he had been involved in some minor sex scandal with a woman who claimed she’d been sexually harassed, but most people seemed to have written off his accuser as a gold digger trying to make a buck off an up-and-coming politician.
“I thought he was different,” Parker continued. “He had so much potential, and I helped him capitalize on it. I was entirely responsible for his senate campaign, from the media appearances, to fund-raising strategy, to staffing. I believed in him. I know that probably sounds silly—”
“Not at all,” Campbell said softly. It didn’t sound silly to her, at least not when Parker said it.
“Well, it was,” Parker said resolutely. “He turned out to be just like the rest of them. He said whatever needed to be said whether he cared about the causes he was supporting or not, and obviously when it came to the most important issues, he did not.”
Campbell sat silently. Parker was evidently reliving some painful memories, and while a part of her ached to alleviate that hurt, she knew enough to realize that kind of pain was personal.
“The establishment sided with him, of course. They didn’t care what he believed as long as he did what they wanted. He was their golden boy, and they all rallied around him, but I just couldn’t be a part of it anymore. And I knew if I stayed there I would be.”
“So you got as far away as you could.”
“I needed to be somewhere I could find my strength again, remember what really mattered, get my bearings, so to speak.”
“And when you do, will you go back?” Campbell barely realized she was holding her breath while she waited for the answer, not looking at Parker, but out into the darkness.
“I don’t know.”
The tightening in Campbell’s chest was almost too much to bear. She knew she was being stupid. Of course a woman like Parker would want more out of life than this little mountain could offer her, but still Campbell felt empty at the thought of her not being there. Lynn’s voice echoed through her head. I mean it. No self-respecting lesbian would ever settle for the life you’re dreaming of. Campbell was simply part of Parker’s temporary retreat, and if she let herself dwell on that fact she would be undeniably hurt. But at the same time she wasn’t likely to forget that reality anytime soon. Holding on to someone who wasn’t holding on to you in return brought nothing but pain.
“Did I say something wrong again?” Parker asked softly.
“What?” Campbell realized she’d been lost in her own thoughts and the conversation had stopped. “No. What do you mean?”
“Campbell, you have a terrible poker face.” Parker chuckled. “You just shut down completely, like you did when I mentioned going to Madison.”
Campbell winced, and the tightness in her throat prevented her from answering right away. Parker couldn’t possibly know the comparison she’d just made between her and Campbell’s past, but the connection was unsetting nonetheless. Had she reacted to the thought of Parker’s leaving the same way she did when she thought of losing Lynn? This wasn’t the first time the similarity between Parker and Lynn had been mentioned. Sammy had said basically the same thing not too long ago, and Campbell was even more disconcerted this time around.
“I’m sorry if I did.” Campbell forced a weak smile. “I certainly didn’t mean to.”
Parker gently covered Campbell’s hand with her own, and the touch sparked a chain reaction that shot though Campbell’s body, igniting a heat that did more than comfort her. “I didn’t mean to either, but obviously something about Madison upsets you. Even hearing the word seems to hurt you.”
“Just your usual youthful indiscretions.” Campbell tried to shrug off the inquiry.
“Now who’s dodging questions?”
Campbell considered the remark. Parker had answered her honestly. She at least deserved the same. “I fell in lo
ve there, for the first time, the only time, really.”
“Oh.” Parker’s expression gave no indication of what she was thinking.
“Lynn was amazing, like no one I’d ever met, which ended up being the problem. We wanted different things from life. We were too different to make it work. So she built a life I didn’t fit into, and I came back home where I belonged.” Campbell could still hear Lynn shouting the day she’d pronounced the ultimatum, forcing Campbell to choose between her lover and her family. You can’t have it both ways, Campbell. While I’m gone, decide whether you want to be a dyke or play heterosexual homemaker at Bear Run.
Campbell shook her head, trying to wipe away the memory. Without realizing it she had threaded her fingers through Parker’s, finding the simple gesture both comforting and exciting. “Bear Run isn’t what most power lesbians want for their future, but for me it’s home. My family is my past and my future. I bet that sounds silly.”
“It might to anyone who doesn’t know your family,” Parker admitted. “I know they’re more than special to you.”
“Lynn saw what she wanted to see.” Campbell sighed. “But in the end the choice was mine.”
“Well, I’m glad you made it.” Parker squeezed her hand gently.
“Yeah?” Campbell’s spirits began to rise.
“I can’t imagine you anywhere else.”
“It is pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Campbell asked, stopping the groomer on top of the mountain. Moonlight cast an incandescent glow over the entire resort, and the snow shimmered with the reflecting light.
“Absolutely.” Parker sounded almost wistful as she stared out at the stunning view. “Every time I think I’m really getting to know this place, you show me something new about it. You deserve to be happy, Campbell, and I’m sure someday the right woman will come along and share your dreams.”
Campbell smiled at the sentiment, but her heart ached at the implications of what was left unspoken. Parker was wishing her the best, but she certainly wasn’t offering to fill the role of “the right woman.”
Chapter Eleven
Parker was spending far too much time staring out the window and not nearly enough preparing for the major conference that was now little more than a month away. She pretended she had no idea why she was so distracted, but then she would see Campbell on the slopes and remember the feel of their interlocking fingers or the soft touch of a hand on her shoulder or the heat of their near kiss. Or she would recall the sadness in Campbell’s voice when she spoke about her first love. To think about someone hurting Campbell, and her still mourning the loss of a woman who so obviously didn’t deserve her, disturbed Parker.
Since Parker had arrived seven weeks earlier in October, she’d gone from being single-mindedly obsessed with her job to wanting to play on the slopes all day, and Campbell had been responsible for that change in attitude. Though Parker knew she shouldn’t, she lingered a little longer at the window, watching Campbell take her after-school group, mostly six- and seven-year-olds, down the mountain and around an obstacle course of orange traffic cones. Parker couldn’t hear her, but every now and then all of the kids would alter the position of their skis at exactly the same time, and she knew Campbell had just called out either “pizza” or “French fries.”
Parker hadn’t skied during the week since Thanksgiving, and that needed to change. Not only was it important to practice her new skills, but she also needed to relax and get out of the office. Turning back to her work, she told herself that if she stayed late tonight and got some work done, she might take tomorrow off to hit the slopes. It would probably be a good day for it, since she’d overheard Emery tell some guests that they were supposed to get several inches of new snow overnight. So she forced herself to focus on preparing for the conference.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been working when she noticed the snow falling outside her window. Even through the clouds it was easy to tell that the sunlight had faded and evening had set in, so it had to be after five o’clock, but she had no idea how long it had been snowing. The flakes were large and seemed to be coming down consistently, but they weren’t heavy. She fought the urge to peek outside. If she allowed herself to be distracted once again, she might never get back on track.
Parker didn’t stop until a dull thud on her window got her attention. Unsure of what had made the sound, she listened carefully to see if it would happen again. After a minute passed, she began to convince herself that she’d imagined it and was just about to return to her paperwork when a snowball hit the window, rattling it ever so slightly as some of the snow stuck to the glass. She peered through the portion of the window that wasn’t plastered with snow. Campbell stood below her bundled up in her coat and gloves, with a scarf around her neck and her stocking cap pulled down over her ears so that only her mouth and sparkling blue eyes showed. Her clothing was covered with the rapidly falling snow, and the massive yellow Sno-Cat was barely visible about thirty yards behind her.
Parker slid open the heavily framed pane of glass, then the smaller storm window, and the frigid air rushed in past her face. The temperature had dropped considerably since this morning, and she shivered.
“If you’re trying to start a snowball fight, I think the odds are in your favor,” she called down to Campbell.
“I wish we had time to play.” Campbell smiled that broad easy smile that came so naturally to her, and Parker felt awash with pleasure that she was able to engender such a response. A faint flutter unsettled her stomach. “But I came to let you know it’s turning into a real blizzard out here,” Campbell continued. “You should head home.”
It hadn’t occurred to Parker that the weather might be dangerous, but as she considered the heavily falling snow, she realized that if it had been coming down like this for several hours, they had likely already received several inches, and it didn’t appear to be letting up. “Thanks for the warning bulletin. I’ll be on my way soon.”
“You better go now,” Campbell said more seriously, her voice raised to be heard over the increasing wind. “If I’d seen your light on, I’d have come up earlier.”
“Okay. What about you?”
“I’m in the groomer. I’ll be fine. You just be careful.”
“You, too, and stay warm,” Parker called before closing the window. She was touched that Campbell had been concerned enough to stop by, but she wondered if she wasn’t being overprotective. The thought of having Campbell there to protect her was nice, though. She wrapped up her tasks for the evening, taking only a few more minutes to finish some of the items she’d been working on before she packed the rest to take home with her. If she got snowed in, she wanted to have something to do.
Almost half an hour later she waded across the parking lot to her little Volvo C70. At least five or six more inches of snow were piled on the hood and windshield, and it took her another fifteen minutes to scrape it all off. When she pulled out onto the road that led around the resort and past her apartment complex, she wished she’d left sooner. If the snowplows had been through, she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t see the road at all, but she simply tried to keep an equal distance between the rows of trees on either side of her vehicle. To make matters worse, the snow was pelting down on a collision course with her windshield. Her headlights illuminated the swiftly blowing flakes, making it appear as through she were making the jump to light speed in the old space movies she used to watch as a kid.
Although she was driving only ten miles an hour, her tires began to slip and she gasped as she started to slide sideway across the road. If anyone else was foolish enough to be driving from the other way, she would be directly in their path. Trying to avoid any sudden moves, she attempted to adjust the steering wheel in order to correct her trajectory, but the change in angle did nothing for her traction. She skidded back the other way. As she neared what she perceived to be the edge of the road, she tried to turn in the other direction once again, but failed. Tapping the brakes, she couldn’t stop the V
olvo’s momentum and slid off the shoulder of the road into a snowbank.
After Parker caught her breath, she scanned her surroundings. The entire passenger side of the car was covered by snow, and the driver’s-side tires seemed to be several yards off the road. Though she knew it was probably useless, she gave the engine a little gas and turned the steering wheel, hoping the tires would catch enough traction to move the car. Instead they spun in place, no doubt digging her in deeper. She shifted into reverse and tried again with the same results.
Cursing quietly, she opened her door and stepped out of the car. Snow immediately covered the top of her short snow boots and seeped into her socks, mocking her for choosing fashion over functionality. She trudged to the back of the car and checked to make sure her tailpipe was clear, then scooped some snow away from the tailpipe, the cold penetrating her gloves and freezing her fingertips. Satisfied she would be safe from carbon monoxide for a while, she climbed back into the driver’s seat, trying to shake off the snow and cold.
Parker dug through the leather shoulder bag she carried back and forth to work and fished out her cell phone. Flipping it open, she held it in every imaginable position trying to get a signal, but she knew she was only deluding herself. She rarely got a strong signal on this side of the mountain even in the best of conditions. In a blizzard the phone was totally useless.
“Okay, Parker,” she said aloud, “don’t panic. You can do this. Just think.”
She mulled over her options. She could try to make it to the lodge on foot, since she was less than a mile from the main building. But the snow and the cold were a strong deterrent, and without her headlights she wouldn’t be able to see more than a few feet in front of her. She’d already stumbled just getting to the back of the car. The thought of trudging all the way back to the lodge was just too much to bear. She was probably closer to Campbell and Sammy’s house, and she knew that either of them would be willing and able to help her, but she’d have to climb halfway up the mountain, and on the slippery road she wasn’t sure she’d make it in one piece—if she could even find the road to get there.
Trails Merge Page 11
