The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set)

by Phoebe Alexander

  Sarah couldn’t help but beam. Of course they are, she thought, I’m their mom! She squeezed his hand gratefully. “I’m so glad you got to come and meet them. I think they really liked you.”

  “Was this some sort of audition?” James questioned, smirking a bit.

  Sarah laughed. “Of course not,” she replied, only a touch defensively. “It’s just that being a mom is a big part of my life, and you don’t really know that side of me. I thought you might like to see me in my natural habitat.”

  “As with everything else in your life, I can see you also excel at motherhood. They’re smart, they seem happy, evidence of a job well done,” James congratulated her.

  Relief washed over her and for a moment she basked in the resounding peace she felt. Just sitting there on the couch, the kids off to bed, in the quiet stillness of the house, it was enough. It felt like all she could ask for.

  ***

  She stared at her phone in disbelief. Two days had passed and James had fallen silent. Back to his old ways, she surmised. After I thought he’d made so much progress. She put her phone in her purse, tired of looking at the screen, willing the little messaging symbol to pop up, waiting to hear the twinkling chime. She turned her attention back to her computer screen. She was soaking up the last day of freedom before the students returned, and she’d promised herself that she would return all the emails that needed returned, schedule a phone meeting with her book publisher, and start getting her presentation for the conference in March together.

  As hard as she tried to concentrate, her thoughts kept returning to the words she’d sent down the wire two days before: I’m so glad you liked my kids. What are you doing this weekend? She rubbed her eyes and wished the work on her computer screen could hold a fraction of her interest that James did. Did I scare him off? Is he mad? Did something happen to him?

  She was going to Pawel’s for dinner. She hated to admit that she was in no mood to see him. I’m sure I’ll be fine when I get there, she reassured herself. After all, he’ll distract me and take good care of me. I should really not be thinking of James all the time anyway. I’m like a crazy person. She continued her self-talk and she began to return emails, completing her simplest tasks first before moving onto the more demanding ones.

  Why does this man hold such power over me? she wondered. He is a mystery. How can we feel so much, so strongly when we are together and then poof, he’s so elusive and distant? “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” she said aloud. She forced herself to put her phone in her purse and return to her computer screen.

  Moments later she pulled it back out again and sent him another text: Are you okay? It always worries me when I don’t hear back from you.

  ***

  Sarah ended up going home early. Her mind was too cluttered to concentrate and sitting in her office chastising herself for her lack of productivity seemed unproductive. She sent Pawel a text to say she wasn’t feeling well and hoped to reschedule dinner. Then in addition to feeling angry at herself for pining away for James, she also felt guilty for bagging Pawel.

  I am a mess, she thought as she sat by the French doors and watched a couple of winter birds sampling the seeds Owen had put in the feeder. Sipping her tea and trying to shake the pervasive feeling of discontent, she heard the screech of the school bus’ brakes and then the handle on the back door turn.

  She carried her tea into the kitchen, hoping the motion and change of scenery would help to engage her Auto Pilot. “How was your day?” Sarah faked cheeriness as her children ambled in, searching for an after school snack. “There are apples,” she reminded Owen as he grabbed a bag of chips from the cupboard. He momentarily looked defeated and then a big smile spread across his face. “What?” Sarah questioned, hopeful that whatever he had to say would lift her spirits.

  He thumbed through the papers in his folder and handed her one. At the top was an A circled in green ink. “I got an A on my science test!” he beamed with pride.

  “Oh, that’s fantastic!” Sarah exclaimed, affixing the test to the refrigerator with an Empire State building magnet they’d gotten on a summer excursion to New York.

  Sarah noticed that Abby was standing at the refrigerator, the doors spread wide, as if the contents were going to morph before her eyes. “What’s up, Abby?”

  She shook her head nonchalantly and reached for a yogurt. “What’s for dinner?”

  Dinner, ugh, Sarah thought. She hadn’t eaten all day. “Tacos?” she hypothesized. Assuming I can find the energy, she thought. Abby looked satisfied and began to walk away just in time to hear her mother sigh and glance down at her phone again, which was projecting its emptiness from the cold, hard countertop.

  Abby wasn’t used to seeing her mother steeped in one of her melancholy moods. Sarah tried very hard to conceal that side of herself and always give off positive vibes, especially to her children. “Are you okay?” she asked, concern growing in her eyes.

  Something inside Sarah broke. The tear she’d been battling slipped down her cheek before she could will it back inside. She felt her sinuses burning as she struggled to get herself under control. “Oh, Abby, I’m sorry...just having a rough day.” She gave a little shrug and fully expected her daughter to nod and flit up the stairs to her bedroom to do whatever teenage girls do after school to avoid doing their homework.

  Abby looked surprised enough to be knocked over with a feather. She hadn’t seen her mother cry since the divorce. Suddenly the formerly silent phone came alive and began to buzz from across the room. She watched her mother’s eyes glisten with hope. Sarah crossed the room toward it, getting close enough to see from whom the call came, then announced, “It’s Rachel,”

  “Don’t you want to talk to her?” Abby inquired, clearly confused.

  Sarah pulled a chair out from the table and with trembling fingers sat, placing the phone face down against the smooth wood. She didn’t want to talk to Rachel. It would just be “wedding plans this” and “wedding plans that.” As much as she wanted to be happy for her friend, she could not deny there were pangs of jealousy taking little bites out of her, like a parasite. Great, more guilt, Sarah cringed. God, I wish I knew what was wrong with me today.

  “How are things with Tyler?” Sarah changed the subject. This was her go-to tactic whenever she was on the verge of showing emotional weakness. Turn the tables. Get the other person to talk instead. Sheer genius, she thought.

  “Things are good,” Abby replied. “Mom, is this about James?”

  Sarah sighed again; she had almost forgotten that the cat was out of the bag. Abby had met James, so there was no denying that Sarah was dating him. The tears welled up inside her again as she thought about what a risk she’d taken introducing him to her children. Mom and Rachel were wrong, she realized, I shouldn’t have done it. There was no need to. It scared him away. I fucked everything up.

  Abby pushed a little harder, “So...it’s James, right? You know, I really liked him. What did he do?” There were times, little flashes, that Sarah could see herself in Abby. This was one of those times. She watched her daughter take a seat next to her at the table close to her.

  “I haven’t heard from him since he was here the other night,” Sarah admitted, her walls crumbling. “I’m afraid having him here to meet you guys was a mistake.”

  Abby looked sad, her blue-green eyes wide and full of empathy. She placed her hand on her mother’s. “I’m sorry, Mom. Maybe he’s just been really busy?”

  Sarah nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know, sweetie; he is hard to understand sometimes.”

  A little smirk lifted the corner of Abby’s lips. “You mean men in their 30’s don’t make any more sense than 16-year-olds?”

  Sarah laughed and turned her hand so it was on top of Abby’s, patting it a little. “I wish I could say they do,” she admitted. “Relationships are tough, Abby. Sometimes it’s hard for people to be honest with themselves and with others. I don’t think James really knows what he wants. He’s sev
eral years younger than me.” Which I sometimes fail to take into account when it comes to getting frustrated with him.

  “Really?” Abby remarked. “He doesn’t look that much younger!”

  Sarah smiled at her daughter’s unintentional compliment. “He’s actually only 29. I’d like to think I look a little younger than 36,” Sarah laughed.

  “Go Mom! Does that make you a cougar?” she asked innocently.

  Alright, now that stings a bit. “Oh, Abby! Where did you hear that term?” she shook her head. “And no it doesn’t make me a cougar, silly girl! Cougars are women in their 40’s dating guys in their 20’s or younger. It’s like a 20 year age difference, not 7. Give me a few years, alright?” She laughed again, already feeling her heart lighten.

  Abby looked sheepish for a moment trying to remember where she’d learned about cougars and why in the world she accused her mother of being one. She determined it was better to gloss over it. “James seems like a great guy,” she said. “I’m sure if he really cares for you...if it’s meant to be...you’ll hear from him soon.”

  Words of wisdom from a 15-year-old...from the mouths of babes, Sarah considered. She squeezed her daughter’s hand again, the maturity she’d just displayed taking her breath away a little bit. A little vision of her pixie face framed by long honey-colored pigtails and a smattering of freckles flashed across her mind. She could barely reconcile that vision with the half-grown woman sitting beside her. Why didn’t anyone tell me how bittersweet motherhood is?

  And with that thought, the tears started again. She mouthed the words “thank you” to her daughter and squeezed her hand again.

  “You should call Rachel back,” Abby suggested. “She worries about you, you know.”

  It was hard for Sarah to accept the idea of anyone worrying about her. As hard as she tried to be independent and self-reliant, she didn’t like thinking there was a crack in the veneer. Now she had three people if she counted her mother (what mother didn’t worry about her children?) and possibly four if Pawel was included, worrying about her and all because of one man. She shook her head, still not understanding why James had this effect on her.

  Later when she finally had the energy to tackle taco preparation, she felt a dull ache in her lower abdomen. Ugh, my period, she observed from the privacy of her bathroom, rummaging through her cabinets for the box of tampons she had shoved to the back at the end of her last cycle. I should have known my hormones played a role in this. As she went to find the bottle of ibuprofen she noticed her phone was flashing with a text.

  From James: hey...everything is fine...been busy. miss you

  ***

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Promotion

  The mountain looms in the sky like Jupiter. At its base perky white daisies wink merrily around a rolling stream, all peace and safety, but the peak of the giant is speaking to me. “Climb me. Scale me. Conquer me,” it calls out across the heavens, its booming voice thundering through the valley. I’ve never felt so compelled despite my senses screeching warnings in high-pitched terror. But I can’t ignore the giant’s command, its presence, drawing me to its snow-capped summit, a granite emperor rising from a misty throne, beckoning my soul.

  She awoke to a body pressed against hers, an arm draped around her waist, and a leg slung over her hip. She felt warm breaths falling against her neck and wanted nothing more than to sink back down into the pillows, but her bladder had other plans. She tried to maneuver her body out from under the other one but his limbs were like lead. She slowly shifted her hips while grabbing his calf, attempting to lift it, foiled by its weight. She wiggled and gradually slid out from under his leg, then had a slightly easier time freeing herself from his arm.

  She still wasn’t used to navigating James’ house in the dark. She’d driven over very late that night after a strained text conversation and never really got her bearings, she’d been so upset over his inability to muster any consideration for her hurt feelings. She made the forty minute drive because her heart ached so badly she knew she wouldn’t be able to get to sleep. She hated the tension, the uncertainty. Are we breaking up? the question hung in the air like a wave reaching its crest.

  The conversation was still ringing in her ears. “I don’t understand what you do all day,” Sarah had complained. “I don’t understand why it’s so challenging to take ten seconds to respond to a text.” She didn’t even care that her tone was cold and accusatory. She was tired of his bad behavior and of feeling like she was riding an emotional roller coaster of his design and operation.

  “What do you mean ‘what I do all day?’” he had retorted. “I work a full-time job, same as you. I get up at 0515, I’m ready to go by 0545, PT at 0630. I run four miles and then at 0800 I’m in the office. I accomplish more in those first two hours than most people do all day. At 1000 I have class so I have to drive to campus. After class I hit the gym.” His blue eyes had glared at her like they had shards of ice buried in them. “Is that enough of a breakdown or do you need to know when I use the restroom too?”

  “I don’t need your itinerary,” Sarah had argued, her voice still cool but the emotion was swelling, threatening to surge. “I just feel like I’m an afterthought to you. I don’t like going two days without hearing from you. I think about you all the time. Do you ever think about me when we’re apart?” By the last sentence she was trembling.

  “Of course I do,” James had replied, softening, his body gravitating toward hers. He had pulled her into his arms and she immediately yielded, strong sobs jerking through her and the tears erupting onto his chest. “I’m not sure why I have these walls up, Sarah. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

  Later, after they’d both calmed and shared about their weeks, she had apologized, “I don’t know why I get so emotional about you. I just feel really deeply I guess.”

  He had kissed the top of her head and pulled her into his bedroom. That was the last thing she remembered before drifting off in his arms. Now she was tiptoeing through the stillness of his house wondering why he’d chosen to answer her last statement with a kiss instead of words. When she reached the bedroom, he’d rolled over so that his back faced her. It’s always two steps forward and then a retreat, she thought, seeing the symbolism in his position. This is a war I will never win.

  She started to fumble for her purse and keys and managed to trip over a book he had tossed on the rug so that one corner was submerged under the bed and the other under a mound of clothes. I thought he was a neat freak from the time I was over here before, she surveyed. Must have been trying to impress me. She slipped her shoes on and made her way toward the door when suddenly his voice broke the silence, “Where are you going?”

  Her heart leapt at the sound of him. He had turned over and now that she had adjusted to the darkness she could feel his eyes bore through her. “I think it’s better if I just leave,” she said.

  He sat up, groggy and somewhat exasperated. “I thought we worked all this out a couple of hours ago,” he groaned.

  Sarah sighed, unsure if she had the energy to till this soil again. She felt like he was going to continue to make empty promises and say what she wanted to hear, but his actions would keep betraying her faith in him. He’s a baby. He doesn’t know how to give.

  “Come back to bed, please?” he asked, his voice sounding smaller than usual, with a twinge of desperation. She was frozen between the bed and the door, both options seeming equally valid and equally impossible. He paused a beat. “Sarah,” he pled, “come lie down with me.”

  Those words. With me. They pulled. She felt his usually concealed tenderness seep out and guide her body toward him. In seconds her face was buried in his chest hair, both of his arms around her, his warmth filtrating through her like oxygen in her cells. Why does it always feel like everything is perfect when I’m right here? And so wrong when I’m not?

  ***

  Rachel stood on the beige carpeted pedestal in the middle of the bridal shop surrounde
d by mirrors. Peering from her angle on the sidelines, Sarah could see a hundred Rachels primping and posing, hands on her hips, adjusting the veil. She could hardly believe she was witnessing her friend in a white dress.

  “Well, what do you think?” she queried, her face aglow.

  Sarah smiled. “I didn’t picture you wearing white, to be honest,” she began, “but that style is very flattering on you. I really like it.”

  “I didn’t picture white either,” Rachel admitted, “but stranger things have happened, right?” She smoothed the satin around her hips. The dress fit her like a glove, like it was made for her, with a plunging V neckline accented with tiny pearls and rhinestones and a short train attached to the basque waist that curled around her bare feet. “This would look so much better with heels though. Oh!” she gasped suddenly, her voice quivering with excitement. “White leather lace-up boots with a stiletto heel!”

  The saleslady returned with four purple dresses in a similar style. “These are the bridesmaids’ dresses,” she explained, handing them to Sarah.

  Soon Sarah was standing beside Rachel on the pedestal, amethyst satin draped over her curves. The dress had a ruched bodice and a neckline that echoed the bridal gown’s. The bodice stopped slightly above her natural waistline and was accented with a rhinestone clip where the material was gathered and then floated away from her body all the way to the floor. She liked the way the deep purple looked with her ivory skin and dark hair. She felt a little like royalty, and soon wondered What would James think of it? She thought for a moment about whether or not James would still be in the picture in June for the wedding. Would he fly to Colorado to be my date?