Chapter 15
At seven o’clock, just as I came downstairs, Alex was letting himself in. The liberty didn’t bother me, but his tight-fitting jeans and how they outlined his hips and crotch did. He wore a dark green, long-sleeved polo shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders. That bothered me, too. I jumped from the second last step and landed within inches of his chest. He put out his hands and steadied me.
“You left your door unlocked,” he said.
A locked door provided security. Of course, that was when evil was on the street and not in my house. In my present circumstances, an unlocked door made a quick getaway easier, if one became necessary. I couldn’t tell Alex that, though. He’d want to spend the night on my sofa and the temptation to join him would be too great. I wanted that, but not yet.
“Well, hi to you, too,” I said.
He stood fixed in position for a moment, then smiled. “Hi.” He brushed his lips against my cheek. “You really shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked.”
I felt like a chastised child. “I’ll remember from now on. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I grabbed my leather jacket from the coat rack, noticing his attention to my little derrière. I wore my good butt jeans and was happy I did.
He turned his gaze to my coat. “Do you have anything warmer than that?”
“Like?”
“A parka.”
My curiosity overcame me. “What’ll we be doing tonight exactly?”
He mimed zipping his lips.
“Okay, okay.” I draped my jacket over the newel post. “I have a parka, but it isn’t pretty.”
“Tonight is about having fun, not making a fashion statement.”
Fun. I could use some of that. “Where’re we going again?”
He grinned. “I’m not that easy.”
God, how I knew that. I pulled my parka off a hook in the closet and held it up for inspection. That old mustard stain on the pocket hadn’t disappeared. The rips and frayed cuffs hadn’t repaired themselves, either. I swung the coat around my back. Feathers escaped from the tears and flew into the air.
Alex fanned his face. “That jacket's seen better days.”
I chuckled. “Didn’t I say it wasn’t pretty?” I slipped my feet into sneakers.
“Any snow boots?”
Strange, but I unpacked the winter footwear that afternoon after I returned from Leroy’s.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” I searched the back of the hall closet and found mine. “Voilá.”
He examined them. “They’ll do.”
I donned the parka and boots. “Anything else?”
“Hat, scarf and mittens.”
I rummaged around on the shelf of the closet and came out holding all three items in my sweaty palms. “Ta da.”
“Good.”
Parka, snow boots, mittens, scarf, hat — That could only mean one thing in my mind. “Oh, you sly devil. We’re going ice fishing.” I jabbed his chest playfully. “I used to go all the time with my father. You need to be warned though. I always catch the most fish.”
He shook his head.
“No?” My spirits dipped.
“The strait’s not frozen yet.”
Why didn’t that occur to me? “Right.” I stared at Alex’s sneakered feet. “Aren’t you coming to the North Pole with me?”
God, I loved his laugh. The warmth in his hazel eyes made me reconsider my decision to snoop into his past. Maybe I should mind my own business. There was certainly enough of it. Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if I could reunite him with his biological parents and free him of the sadness that sometimes plagued his eyes?
“My gear’s in the car.”
“Car?”
His brows formed an inverted V. “Are we having comprehension problems tonight?”
“Don’t ask me why, but I pictured a horse and sleigh or ... that’s it. We’re going snowmobiling.”
He shook his head again. “Good guess, but no.”
Bummer. I enjoyed that winter activity, too.
“All set?”
“Like gelatin.”
I grabbed my keys and turned out the lights. It unsettled me not knowing our destination or what he planned for this evening. Nevertheless, I followed him out the door.
“Your chariot awaits, Madame.” He swept his hand toward the vehicle idling at the curb. I stepped onto the veranda and gasped. “You own a Lincoln Navigator?” In answer to his surprised expression that I knew anything about cars, I said, “When I shopped for a car, it was a toss-up between a Volvo and a Lincoln. Since Volvos are supposed to be the safest and most reliable car on the road, I opted for safety rather than luxury what with the kids and all.” And if he believed that a Lincoln was within my budget ... well, he could be sold on anything.
“Oh. Okay, I believe that.”
His grin told me otherwise.
We walked to the car.
He opened the passenger door and helped me onto the seat. I settled on the heated leather and stared at the colored lights on the dash, feeling like I sat in the cockpit of a jet. I resisted the urge to press buttons.
Alex got behind the wheel, put the vehicle in gear, checked for traffic, then pulled onto the road. “Have you eaten?”
“Have I ever. I went over for tea with Leroy and Clara and got a banquet.” Another partial truth, but I couldn't tell him I went to them looking for information about him. I wanted finding the location of his biological parents to be a surprise.
He stopped at a red light at the intersection and looked over at me. “That was nice of you.” Make me feel worse, why don’t you? “Uh-huh.”
“They don’t get many visitors. After what happened when they tried to help Vincent and Bridget, they’re still shunned. Everyone thought they were crazy with all that talk about ghosts and haunted houses. People have long memories.”
I suspected that was the reason for Leroy’s sudden philosophical bent. After the humiliation they suffered when he tried to help Vincent and Bridget, he obviously wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He trod carefully this time, guiding me toward the answers rather than giving me the answers.
Alex turned onto the by-pass and headed west. “Where’re we going again?”
“It’s a surprise, remember? Sit back and relax.” He popped a CD in the player.
I trusted him, but didn’t understand why. I snuggled into the seat. Whether it was all the food I ate today or the satisfaction from believing all my questions about the house and Alex would soon be answered, I drifted off to Beethoven’s Fifth.
When I woke an hour later, I was mortified. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” What he must think of me.
“It’s okay. You were tired.” He looked at me and smiled. "You have drool on the corner of your mouth."
Oh, God. I'd drooled. Wiping my mouth, I looked out the window and saw that we traveled up a mountain. I immediately knew our destination. “We’re going to Dhoon Mountain.” I perked up. “I’ve never been before.”
“Really?” He took his attention from the road. “That surprises me.”
It didn’t surprise me. “I wanted to take the kids, but something always stood in the way — Jonathan’s work, bad weather, bad timing ....” My voice trailed off. “Don’t you need a membership to get in here?”
“You don’t need one, but I have one, though.”
For all I knew about him, he could own the resort.
He pulled into a space between two cars in the well-lit parking lot in front of the building.
Outdoor enthusiasts like myself milled about, dressed in the finest outdoor apparel — unlike me — in a wide array of vivid colors, taking skis from racks atop their cars, entering and exiting the building, all with happy smiles. I heard their excited voices from inside the car and grinned. I understood how they felt. The first snowfall, the wind whipping through your hair, the
rush from speeding down a ski slope —
“Did you want to go in for a drink or do you want to do what we came here to do and have a drink later?”
My stomach somersaulted, but I managed to squeak, “What did we come here to do?”
His grin made me feel so misguided.
“Why tobogganing, of course.”
Judging from the flickering brightness in his eyes, he knew I’d jump to the wrong conclusion.
“Of course.” I hoped my words sounded upbeat and not disappointed — what I truly felt.
“So, which is it? Sliding first, then a drink?”
“Sounds good to me.” I didn’t drink much. The thought of barreling down a mountainside half-looped terrified me.
“As you wish, madam.” He smiled as he opened the power window of the cargo hold and got out of the Lincoln. He donned a ski jacket, removed his Nikes and pulled on snow boots. Clutching leather mitts in his hands, he went in search of a toboggan while I leaned against the vehicle admiring the sights and enjoying the bustle around me.
I didn’t know what exhilarated me more — the clear mountain air, the freshly fallen snow, Alex’s company or that he planned this excursion knowing my love for snow and wanted to do something just for me. Jonathan never put my wants or needs before his. I grew so accustomed to never being thought about that toward the end of our marriage I didn’t know my own likes and dislikes anymore. Did Jonathan do special things for me when we dated and during the first years of our marriage? I couldn’t recollect if he had.
Dhoon Mountain Resort, built a few years ago, was cedar and glass construction with windows overlooking a huge lake, the mountains, and a view of forever. A stone chimney the width of my house took up a minute part of one side of the building. What sat before my eyes was fabulous under a canopy of a star-speckled sky and a full moon, but I ached to see it under a bright sun and clear blue sky.
Alex returned hauling an aluminum toboggan behind him.
“It’s as beautiful here as I envisioned it.” I hugged myself and sighed.
“I spend a lot of time here. In the summer there’s hiking along the nature trails, hay rides, swimming, tennis, biking, horseback riding, fishing.” He pointed to his right. “Just beyond that ridge, surrounded by pine trees, there’s a pond that’s stocked with trout. This place is particularly beautiful in the fall when the leaves are changing.”
“It must be.”
“It reminds me of where I grew up.”
I remembered an earlier conversation of ours. “Didn’t you tell me you were born and bred in Sheffield?”
He shook his head. “No, I was raised in Portland.”
“Oh.” Funny, I thought he told me differently. In fact, I know he did. Why did he lie?
“Shall we?” He motioned toward the sliding hill.
I pulled on my hat and mitts. “Let’s do it.” Already my thoughts turned to after — a hot toddy in front of a roaring fire and, then .... well, time would tell.
Hand in hand, we strolled across the parking lot. We hadn’t touched once since we left the house. I appreciated the closeness so much more now. For not pushing me for intimacy and for not exploiting my vulnerability, he scored more points. Alex was a wonderful man.
He aligned the toboggan. A little to the left, then a little to the right, and we were set to go. He sat at the back and stretched his legs on either side. I sat between them and took hold of the rope. We pushed off and descended the hill. The wind rushing at me and the powdery snow dusting my face felt exhilarating. “The last time I had this much fun I had to be in bed at seven thirty,” I said over my shoulder.
The tension of the last few months washed from my body. I gazed up at the full moon and the stars. No one else existed. It was just the two of us.
Midway down the long slope, a northerly gale picked up at our backs, propelling us faster. Puffs of snow blew at us as the toboggan accelerated faster and plowed through drifts.
We hit a patch of ice and the speed of our descent increased even more. Before long, we spiraled out of control. I clutched the rope in a death grip, feeling my life depended on it.
“Susan.”
“What?”
“Tree.”
I followed the direction of his outstretched hand. Oh my God. A fifty-foot Scotch Pine loomed directly in our path.
“Use the reins.”
Reins? I never heard the rope referred to that way before.
“Steer.”
"I'm trying."
He reached around me for the rope, but I was already jerking it to the left. The toboggan turned a little, but not enough. We still maintained a collision course with the tree. I estimated ten yards separated us. Oh my God. Nine yards. I leaned my weight to the left, but nothing happened. Eight yards ....
“Bail.”
The next thing I knew, strong arms yanked me from the toboggan. We landed hard in the snow, then flipped over, the wind carrying away my screams. One of my snow boots whizzed past my head, taking my knitted hat with it.
Down the hill we went, tumbling, body clinging to body, until we stopped with a thud beneath the gigantic bottom branches of the pine alongside a badly dented toboggan. Alex’s weight on top of me made breathing extremely difficult.
He placed his hands on either side of me and raised himself. “Are you hurt?”
I inhaled deeply. “I don’t think so.” I flexed my legs and hands.
Our eyes met and held. For an instant, the world around me stilled. In the next moment, he leaned forward and kissed me. He took me by surprise, but only until I remembered this was what I wanted. When the kiss ended, I drew an alarmed breath, thinking that this was the defining moment for us. We could never go back to being just friends. The thought frightened me. I couldn't lose Alex. He'd become an important and wonderful part of my life. Then the desire that simmered in my thoughts these past few weeks burst to life. I lifted my head from the ground and kissed him, hungrily, greedily, as though we lived our last moments. I inhaled his masculine scent, the scent of pine needles and the musky odor of a wood fire.
He groaned and abruptly broke away from me. “This isn’t the place.”
I looked around. We were alone. The moment was now. I grabbed his jacket, pulled him to me and shamelessly kissed him again. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. Like I was going anywhere. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to feel like a woman who was loved. Now wasn’t the time for prudence. Tomorrow I’d deal with the consequences of my weakness. I needed to feel like a woman again. I ... Susan. Oh God, what was I thinking? This can’t happen. Not yet. We didn’t know each other long enough or well enough. Something terrible lurked in his past. I sensed it. Maybe something that could hurt my children. My children. They needed my primary attention. They needed to come first. What I wanted came second.
As though discerning my inner conflict, he muttered a curse. “This isn’t right. You’re vulnerable. I can’t take advantage of that. You’re not divorced yet.” He stood and helped me to my feet.
“Right.” I brushed myself off. “It’s too soon. I’m not divorced yet. We should get to know each other better. Once we do, if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, we’ll still be good friends.” I stared up at him. "Right?"
“Right.”
Then why did our voices sound so deflated, like the wind blowing threw the trees had sucked the vitality from our existence?
Under the moonlight, he gave me a long, steady look. “Have you had enough fun for one night?”
“Not as much as I would have liked.”
Restless Souls Page 23
