Fireside

by Susan Wiggs

  “The town has a winter carnival,” Kim went on. “I’ve never been here for it, but I’m told it’s a big event.”

  “I was here for it last year,” Bo volunteered.

  “What was it like?” asked AJ.

  “Hell—heck—I stayed inside where it was warm,” said Bo. “They have ice-hockey tournaments, stuff like that. Oh, and there’s this insane race—an Iron Man triathlon. Noah does it every year. It involves snowshoeing, dogsledding and cross-country skiing.” Bo shuddered.

  “Dogsledding?” AJ’s eyes lit up. “You mean, like in the Iditarod?”

  Kim nodded. “Mush, and all that. I bet Noah would take you and your dad.”

  “Forget it,” Bo said.

  “Excellent,” AJ said.

  “Man, for a kid who doesn’t like sports, you’re sure interested in trying a lot of them,” Bo remarked.

  “So can we go dogsledding with Noah?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Heads up,” Kim said, lifting the safety bar. “We’re near the top. Now, remember what I showed you about getting off the lift. Just step off and slide away from the chair. Ready?”

  No, thought Bo.

  “Yes,” AJ said, leaning forward.

  “Here we go.” Kim put her arms around AJ and helped him glide smoothly off the chair lift.

  Bo fell on his ass. “Hey,” he wailed. “This sucks.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Kim extended her hand to him. “Get up and let’s get our boards on.”

  A few minutes later, they had fastened their booted feet onto the snowboards, and they stood together at the top of the slope. It was marked with a green sign.

  “Green means this is the easiest way down,” Kim explained.

  Bo regarded the long, forbidding incline with gut-clenching dread. “The way I see it, the easiest way down is with those guys.” He gestured at a toboggan being towed behind a snowmobile.

  “That’s the ski patrol bringing an injured person off the mountain,” Kim said. “You don’t want to leave like that.”

  Bo still wanted to leave. Yet one glimpse of AJ’s face reminded him to keep his mouth shut. The boy’s eyes shone. There was no other word to capture that bright, intense glow of interest. Maybe Kim was onto something here. Here was a chance to connect with AJ, give him something to like about this place. And maybe even about his father.

  “I’ve never stood on top of a mountain before,” AJ said. “It’s like being on top of the world.”

  Kim took a cell-phone picture of him. “You are on top of the world. Come on, guys. Let’s go snowboarding.”

  All around them, skiers and snowboarders zipped past, seeming to coast down the hill. Bo and AJ spent more time on their butts than on their boards. There was a silver lining, though. In order to help Bo get up on his board, Kim spent a lot of time clutching him around the waist, trying to hold him upright. Eventually, they reached the bottom. Bo yearned to call it quits, but it was no use—she made them ride the lift back up and do it all over again. And again.

  AJ picked up the basics fairly quickly. “Hey, check it out,” he yelled on the third or fourth run, easing down the hill like a surfer in slow motion. “Hey, it’s working.”

  “How come he picked it up so fast?” Bo demanded, frustrated.

  “He’s got a lower center of gravity. That helps,” Kim said.

  “Yeah? What’s going to help me?”

  “I will.” She grabbed his waist, coaching him until he managed to keep his balance. She was stronger than she looked, manhandling him into position. She coaxed and guided him down the hill, showing a patience and forbearance he hadn’t known she possessed.

  “Hold me tighter,” he said as they made their way to the bottom. “I don’t want to fall.”

  It was too late, though. He was already falling. The snowy surface raced up to meet him, gathering speed. He and Kim went down together, hitting the ground in an explosion of fresh snow.

  AJ didn’t exactly laugh aloud, but he couldn’t keep the amusement from his eyes. “You look like the abominable snowman,” he called, laughter flowing behind him as he glided down the hill.

  “I’ve been trying to make him smile for days,” Bo said. “Turns out all it took was wiping out in a snowbank.” He felt a lump of snow slither down his neck. “This is humiliating.”

  “But worth it,” she said, offering her hand to help him up.

  “Why? Because I get to grab you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. Look.”

  At the bottom of the hill, AJ was talking to some kids his age. Bo forgot his misery for a moment as he watched them laughing together. Laughing. Bo didn’t think there was anything sweeter in life than seeing your kid laugh. Friends could make all the difference.

  The boys were still hanging out when Bo wobbled to a halt near AJ. “I made it down again,” he said. “All in one piece. But you beat me by a mile.”

  “Uh, yeah.” AJ’s smile disappeared. Clearly, he wasn’t sure what to do in the situation.

  Bo took off his goggles. “Bo Crutcher,” he said, greeting the kids. “And this is Miss Kimberly van Dorn.”

  The boys introduced themselves. Bo couldn’t tell whether they were more impressed by the fact that they were talking to Bo Crutcher or by the fact that Kim was a world-class looker. One guy, Vinny Romano, declared himself a die-hard Hornets fan. “I went to every single home game last summer,” he said. “You had an awesome season.”

  “Thanks,” said Bo.

  “I came to your pitching clinic,” said another boy, whose name was Tad.

  “You did,” Bo confirmed. “I remember you. You’re a lefty like me. AJ’s a southpaw, too.” At the moment, he felt like giving these boys a generous tip, because they made him look good in front of AJ.

  “These guys were going to take me up the other chairlift,” AJ said, gesturing at the longer lift. “And then over to the half-pipe, where you can do tricks and stuff.”

  Bo was dying to say no to that. Kim gave him a look. It was remarkable how much she could convey in a single look.

  “I’ll be careful,” AJ promised. “I’ll keep my helmet on.”

  “Meet us at the lodge when the lifts close,” Kim said. “We’ll be by the fire, relaxing.”

  “In fact, we were just headed there now,” Bo said.

  “We’re not.” Kim bullied him toward the chairlift again. “We’ve got two more hours before they shut down the lifts.”

  He tried not to groan aloud. “Okay, see you,” he told AJ. “Be careful.”

  As AJ and the boys headed for the last line, Bo heard one of them say, “That’s your dad? Man, you’re lucky.”

  Kim gave Bo a nudge. “Hear that? His friends think he’s lucky.”

  “I wonder what AJ thinks.”

  “He’s warming up to you,” she said. “Especially after today. I can tell.”

  She worked him like a ranch dog for the rest of the afternoon. She was the most relentless of coaches, pushing him, yelling at him, praising him, scolding him. After each fall, he made a big show of rising to his feet, making certain he grabbed her and held fast for longer than was necessary. Damn. She felt so good in his arms, he was almost grateful for the outing. Almost.

  Eventually, he was able to ride down the slope without mishap. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “I feel like I just pitched a shutout.”

  “Good for you.” She high-fived him, but refused to let him rest on his laurels. “Let’s try the other chair.”

  “Let’s try a cold beer by the fire.” He gestured at the lodge, so friendly-looking, with its glowing windows and puffing chimney.

  “Ha. You’re on a roll, Crutcher. I’m not letting up on you now.”

  “Media training and now this. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?”

  �
�Let’s see, ice-skating, tobogganing, snowshoeing...”

  “Forget I asked.” He gritted his teeth and endured another chairlift ascent, longer and steeper than the other. This side of the mountain had more challenging runs.

  “You want to see me dead,” Bo accused.

  “I’ve never lost a client yet. Not to snowboarding, anyway.” She gave him no time to worry or talk himself out of taking on the intermediate slopes. Besides, there was this invisible but huge element in play—his pride. With dogged determination, he forced himself to conquer the hill. And somewhere between the bone-jarring wipeouts and soul-numbing cold, he actually learned how to ride a snowboard, and it started to be fun in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  “Look at you.” Kim clapped her mittens in excitement. “You’re snowboarding.”

  He dared to try a little more speed. In his mind, he was like the Silver Surfer in comic books—confident, agile, effortlessly graceful.

  “AJ’s over at the half-pipe,” said Kim. “Let’s show him what you’ve learned.”

  They found the boys taking turns on the engineered slope. It was a gully carved out of the snow, designed to facilitate airborne turns.

  “Watch this!” AJ called out when he spotted them. With his friends calling encouragement, he surfed the half-pipe, taking a spill or two, but managing a couple of clean, sharp turns. He wobbled as he landed, but stayed upright.

  Bo felt a crazy kind of pride. “That’s my boy,” he said.

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed.

  “My turn.” Before he lost his nerve, he went to the edge and teetered there.

  “Go for it,” AJ called, his voice echoing through the pipe. “Come on, you can do it.”

  Bo took a deep breath and watched Kim demonstrate. She made it look effortless and fun, looping back and forth, from one side of the U-shaped trench to the other. To Bo, there were few things more attractive than a woman who was good at sports. Growing up, his crushes had always been for woman athletes—Gabriela Sabatini, Jackie Joyner-Kersee. Kim easily qualified for membership in their club, because she was fearless and good at what she did. Best of all, she was close enough to touch.

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself over the edge and down the slope of the half-pipe. Instantly he knew he had miscalculated his aim. Instead of gliding down one bank and up the opposite side, he slid down the middle of the pipe, gathering speed by the nanosecond. Vaguely, he could hear warnings being shouted, although he couldn’t make out the words.

  He was going faster than he’d ever gone without the benefit of an internal combustion engine. If he crashed now, he would break every bone in his body. He needed to figure out how to slow himself down. In desperation, he tried the weight-shift move Kim had shown him and, amazingly, he turned, diverting his relentless downhill run. Now he was headed up the steep side of the pipe. The steepness would slow him down like a runaway truck lane off a freeway.

  Except it didn’t work that way. Crazily, he gathered speed with centrifugal force, violating the laws of physics so many times, he ought to be arrested.

  He heard the roar of voices as he cleared the lip of the pipe. Saw a patchwork of blue and white, the sky and snow, and beneath him, he felt absolutely nothing. He was weightless, flying. Ascending to heaven.

  Okay, he thought. This is the part where I’m supposed to wake up and realize it was all a dream. Instead, from a terrifying height, he dropped like a bird shot from the sky. Boom.

  A mushroom cloud of snow erupted all around him.

  Moments later, AJ, Kim and the two boys gathered. “Are you okay?” AJ demanded, his voice edged with concern. “Dad! Are you all right?”

  For a few seconds, Bo lay still. He wasn’t injured, but savoring the sound of AJ calling him Dad.

  “Hey, Dad.” AJ nudged him. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” Bo said, grinning. “Just peachy.”

  “Cool,” AJ said. “You were awesome.”

  Bo rubbed the snow from his goggles and focused on Kim. “Now can I go inside, coach?”

  “Lemme help you up.” AJ extended his hand.

  So this was new. For the sake of this boy, Bo had done something way out of his comfort zone. A startling thought struck him—this was something a father did, every day. Bo had never experienced it firsthand. His concept of a father came not from what he had, but from what he lacked.

  It came from AJ himself. It didn’t matter that he’d practically done himself in, that he was sitting half frozen in a snowbank. It didn’t matter that he was dying to be indoors, by the fire, nursing a beer. He looked at AJ and thought, That smile is worth everything.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After dinner, Kim found Bo in front of the fire with his hands clasped behind his head and a wide, somewhat sleepy grin on his face. As she stood unobserved in the doorway, she felt a surge of lust.

  I’m an idiot, she thought.

  But there was no denying the truth. Athletes were her weakness. And this particular type—long-haired, long-limbed and bad for her—had been her downfall.

  Taking care to erase all evidence of attraction from her face, she stepped into the room and perched on the arm of the settee. “You certainly look happy with yourself.”

  “This is what they call in Texas a shit-eatin’ grin,” he explained. “And, lady, I earned it today.” He picked up the stereo remote and turned on some music. Vintage Neil Young drifted from the speakers. Bo was a fan of the pedal slide guitar, something she’d never given much thought to until he’d introduced it to her. “I ache in every part of my body,” he said, “is how I earned it. I ache in places I didn’t know I had.”

  She caught herself thinking about his “places.” She had no business thinking of such things, but couldn’t help herself. “Snowboarding will do that to a person.”

  He poured two small glasses of peppermint schnapps and handed her one. “To you, for making me face my fear.”

  She sipped the fiery clear drink. “Apart from the whining, you did all right.”

  “How about you? Are you feeling all right?” he asked.

  “Perfect,” she said. She watched the flames dancing in the grate, pleasantly mesmerized. “A day on the slopes always leaves me feeling perfect. How’s AJ?”

  “Dead asleep. You saw him at dinner,” Bo said. “He practically fell asleep in his lasagna. He could barely drag himself up the stairs. Almost didn’t make it to bed, and he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. But it’s a good kind of tired. He sure had fun today.”

  “That was the whole idea, right?”

  “It worked out even better than you promised. It was good to see him hanging out with kids his age.”

  “He’s so great, Bo. You must be proud of him.”

  “I am, although I can’t take any credit for it. That goes to Yolanda.”

  Kim stayed quiet. He rarely mentioned her by name.

  “I can tell she’s been a good mother,” he added. “Raised him well. She sure as hell doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her.”

  Kim wondered what it was like to have such an intimate connection to someone, to make a child, and then...nothing. “I know she’ll be grateful to know you’re taking good care of AJ.”

  “I guess. No idea what she’s like anymore.”

  “But you did love her,” Kim said, though the statement was a question.

  “We were kids,” he said, “but, yeah. In a way teenagers are in love.”

  “Was she your first...you know?”

  “You’re sure curious tonight,” he said.

  She was. She wanted to know everything about him. “Well?”

  “Okay, she wasn’t my first,” he said. “But it was the first time it was my idea. And that’s all you’ll get out of me about that, so don’t even ask.”

  “Fine, then don’t ask me
, either.”

  “I won’t, because what matters to me is you, right now.” He laughed softly. “I never thought I’d be thanking somebody for dragging me up a mountain and forcing me down on a snowboard, but thank you. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen AJ.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He angled his glass in her direction. “I’d raise a toast to you, but I can’t lift my arm.”

  “Is that going to affect your pitching?” She laughed at his expression. “And does whining ever help?”

  “Hey, I’m wounded.”

  She couldn’t help herself; she examined him from stem to stern. “Where?”

  “Everywhere. But especially my...neck and shoulders. Yeah, if you could just massage the kinks out—”

  “I could, but I won’t.”

  “Come on. You do me, and then I’ll do you. And, yes, I know how that sounds.”

  “I’m not sore at all,” she said.

  “But I am, and I need help. Come on, have a heart.”

  “You’re a big baby, you know that?” Yet she got up and stood behind him, gently kneading the large, powerful muscles of his neck and shoulders. Her excuse was that maybe this close contact would satisfy her stupid craving to be near him, to touch him. She could get it out of her system—yet she knew the thought was a lie the moment it occurred to her.

  He let out a blissful sigh. “You have me pegged,” he agreed. “A big baby.”

  The feel of him under her hands only made her wish things she shouldn’t be wishing. “I can’t believe snowboarding gave you aching shoulders,” she said.

  “There are parts of me that ache worse,” he said, tipping back his head to look at her. “But it would be ungentlemanly for me to ask for a massage there.”

  She swayed slightly toward him and hoped he didn’t notice. He’d taken a shower after they got home, and he smelled wonderful. “I didn’t realize you cared about being gentlemanly.”

  “Normally, I don’t.” Then he added, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “And then I met you, and now it matters a lot.”