Bitter Sweet (37 page)

Katy’s face emerged beneath a mop of flattened hair. Her lips were cold-burned, her nose red, her eyes snapping with excitement now that the danger was over. She flung herself into her mother’s arms.

‘Gol, Mom, I’ve never been so happy to be home in my whole life!’

‘Katy...’ Maggie’s eyes closed as she hugged Katy close. “It’s been the longest night of my life.’ Breast to breast, they rocked, until Katy said, ‘But, Mom?’

‘What?’

‘I gotta go to the bathroom so bad, if I don’t get out of this moonsuit pretty soon I’m going to embarrass myself.’

Maggie laughed and stepped back, reaching to help her daughter with the trio of zippers on the one-piece suit. They seemed to be everywhere, down the front and up both ankles.

‘Here, I’ll do that,’ Eric said, nudging Maggie aside.

‘You’ve got snow in your slippers. You’d better get it out.’

He went down on one knee and helped Katy negotiate the ankle zippers and untie her thick boots, while Maggie went to the kitchen sink and dumped the snow from her slippers.

She dried her feet on a hand towel while Eric helped Katy strip off the ungainly snowmobile suit.

“Hurry!’ she pleaded, dancing in place. The suit came off and. she hit for the bathroom, stocking-footed.

Eric and Maggie watched her go, amused.

Around the corner the door slammed and Katy yelled, ‘ You can laugh! He wasn’t feeding you coffee and brandy for the last hour!’

At the kitchen sink, Maggie turned to face Eric, the laughter melting away gradually to be replaced by a caring glow as she studied him with her lips tipped up softly.

‘You didn’t just happen to be out for a ride in this blizzard.’

‘No. The sheriff’s office called for volunteer rescuers.’

‘How long have you been out?’

‘A couple of hours.’

She moved towards him while he stood before the door looking twice his size in the silver suit and the felt-lined boots. His hair was dishevelled, he needed a shave, and into his ruddy cheeks was pressed the knit weave of his face mask. Even rumpled, he was her ideal.

He watched her cross the room to him, a mother who had kept vigil through the wee hours, barefooted, wearing a quilted rose-coloured robe, her face devoid of makeup, her hair hanging lank and curlless, and he thought, Sweet Jesus, how did this happen? I love her again.

She stopped very close to him and looked up into his eyes.

‘Thank you for bringing her home to me, Eric,’ she said softly and lifting up on tiptoe took him in an embrace.

He folded his arms around her, held her firmly against the sleek silver surface of his snowmobile suit. They closed their eyes and remained where they had wanted to be for weeks, padded full-length, unmoving.

‘You’re welcome,’ he whispered and continued holding her while his heart thundered. He spread his hand on her back and let his feeling for her swell while they remained motionless, listening to one another breathe, and to their own pulses hammering in their ears; smelling one another- fresh air, cold cream, a hint of exhaust fumes, and orange pekoe tea.

Don’t move.., not yet!

‘I knew you’d be up, worrying,’ he whispered.

‘I was. I didn’t know whether to cry or pray or both.’

‘I pictured you here.., in the kitchen.., waiting for Katy while we rode back.’

Still the embrace continued, safeguarded by the presence of another person a mere room away.

‘She never wears boots.’

‘She will after this.’

‘You’ve given me the only Christmas present I want.’

‘Maggie...”

In the bathroom the toilet flushed and they reluctantly parted, standing close, studying one another’s eyes while Eric gripped Maggie’s elbows and wondered at the ambiguity of her statement.

The bathroom door opened and Maggie bent to pick up the snowmobile suit, mask and gloves, hiding her flushed cheeks.

‘Whew! What time is it anyway?’ Katy asked breathily, returning to the kitchen, scratching her head.

“It’s going on two,’ Maggie replied, keeping her face averted.

‘And I’d better be going,’ added Eric.

Maggie turned back to him. ‘Would you like something hot to drink first? Something to eat?’

‘No, I’d better not. But if I could use your phone I’ll call the dispatcher at the fire station and see if they still need me.’

‘Of course. It’s right over there.’

While Eric made the call, Maggie stacked the ‘extra clothing on the table. Then she got out a variety of holiday coloured tins and began filling a plastic bag with an assortment of cookies. Katy followed her back and forth along the cabinets - an eternally hungry college student, sampling from each tin as it came open. ‘Mmm... I’m starved. All I had was a candy bar Eric gave me.’

Maggie gave her a squeeze in passing, and said, ‘I’ve got soup and cold ham for slicing, and meatballs and herring and cheese and fruitcake. Take your pick. The refrigerator’s loaded.’

Eric’s phone call ended and he turned back to the women.

‘They want me to make one more run.’

‘Oh, no.’ Maggie turned to face him, distraught. ‘It’s unfit for humans out there.’

‘Not when you’re dressed right. And I warmed up while I was in here.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like some coffee first? Or soup? Anything?’ Anything to keep him a while longer.

‘No, I’d better go. A minute can seem like an hour when you’re stranded in a cold car.’ He picked up his ski mask and slipped it on, followed by his helmet. He zipped his suit to the throat, donned his gloves and she watched him disappear beneath the disguise.

When he looked up, she felt a sharp thrill at the sight of his eyes and mouth so prominently highlighted while the rest of his face was hidden. His eyes - as blue as cornflowers - were unqualifiedly beautiful, and his mouth - ah, that mouth that had taught her to kiss, how badly she wanted to kiss it again. He resembled a burglar.., a burglar who’d crept into her life and stolen her heart.

He picked up the extra clothing and she went to him with her offering - the only bit of herself she could think to send into the storm with him.

‘Some cookies. For the road.’

He took the bag in his clumsy glove, then glanced into her eyes one last time. ‘Thank you.’

‘Keep safe,’ she said quietly.

‘I will.’

‘Will you...’ Maggie’s consternation showed in her eyes. ‘Will you call and let me know you got in safely?’

He was astounded that she’d request such a thing with her daughter listening.

‘Sure. But, don’t worry, Maggie. I’ve been helping the sheriff’s office for years. I take every precaution and I carry emergency supplies.’ He glanced again at the cookies.

‘Well, I’ve got to go.’

‘Eric, wait!’ Katy interjected, her mouth full of cookies as she bounced across the room to commandeer him for a swift, impersonal hug, hampered by his heavy outerwear.

‘Thanks a lot. I think you might have saved my life.’

He smiled at Maggie over Katy’s shoulder as he leaned down in accommodation. ‘Just promise me you’ll carry emergency supplies from now on.’

“I promise.’ She backed away, smiled, and stuffed another cookie into her mouth. ‘Just imagine that - me being rescued by the guy my morn went to prom with. Wait’ll I tell the girls about this.’

Eric’s glance passed between the two women. ‘Well...’

He gestured with the cookies. ‘Thanks, Maggie. And Merry Christmas. You too, Katy.’

‘Merry Christmas to you.”

Call, Maggie mouthed for his benefit alone.

He nodded and went out into the storm.

They watched him from the window, their arms around each other, holding the curtain aside while beyond the glass the snow engulfed him. He secured the emergency clothes in the bag on the rear of the sled, straddled the seat and started the engine. Through the wall they heard it rattle to life, felt the floor vibrate, and saw the exhaust stream away in a white cloud. He lowered his face shield, raised a hand, threw his weight to one side and circled away from the house. With a sudden burst of speed, the machine shot across the yard, climbed the bank and shot through the air like Santa’s sleigh, then disappeared, leaving only a whorl of white.

‘What a nice man,’ Katy remarked.

‘Yes, he is.’

Maggie dropped the curtain into place and changed the subject. ‘Now how about getting some hot food into you?’

Chapter 11

In the morning, Maggie awakened to a world of white, the wind still keening, the snow plastered to the screens. A sheet of it fell and she lay motionless, studying the shape that remained, its edge like delicate tatted bee. Did Eric make it home safely? Will he call today as I asked?

The house was silent, the bed cosy with the wind whistling along the eaves. She remained in her warm nest, reliving the moments in Eric’s arms: his cold, stiff snowmobile suit against her face; his warm hand on her back; his breath on her ear and hers on his neck; the smell of him - ah, the smell of a man with winter on his skin.

What had they said during those few precious seconds?

Only the permissible things, though their bodies had said more. So what was to happen?

Somewhere in a neighbouring state Eric’s wife waited to board a plane that would bring her home for Christmas.

And sometime over the holiday he would hand her a small silver box and she would pluck from it an emerald ring.

Would she slip it on her own finger? Would he? What return gift would she give? And afterward would they make love?

Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and held them so a long time. Until the image of Eric and Nancy faded. Until she had chastised herself for some wishes she had no right to be making. Until her scruples were securely back in place.

She flung aside the covers, donned her quilted floor length robe and went to the kitchen to mix up waffles.

Around 9:3o Katy came scuffing into the room, wearing one of Maggie’s nightgowns and a pair of leg warmers flopping over the ends of her feet like dephant trunks.

‘Mmm... smells good in here. What are you making?’

She hugged Maggie and wandered to the window. “Waffles. How did you sleep?’

‘Like a baby.’ She pushed back a curtain and squinted.

‘Jeez, it’s so bright!’

‘It’ll be your first white Christmas.’

The sun was out and the snow had stopped falling, but still swirled before a powerful wind. Up above, the bank was as high and curled as a
Big Sur
breaker.

‘What about my things? If it’s still blowing this hard, when will I get my suitcases?’

‘I don’t know. We can call and check with the highway patrol.’

‘I’ve never seen so much snow at one time in my life!’

Maggie followed Katy to the window. What a sight. Not a manmade mark anywhere, only unbroken white carved into caricatures of the sea. Mounds and swales below while above the trees were so whipped and bent by the wind that no shred of snow clung to them.

‘Looks like we’re still isolated. It’ll probably be a while before you see your suitcases.’

It was precisely thirty-five minutes before Katy saw her suitcases. They had finished their bacon and waffles and sat over tea and coffee in the kitchen, still in their nightwear with their beds propped on empty chairs, when, like a replay of last night, a snowmobile climbed the snowbank beside the road, plunged into the yard and roared to a stop six feet from the back door.

‘It’s Eric!’ Katy rejoiced, bounding from her chair. ‘He’s brought my clothes!’

Maggie leapt up and hit for the bathroom, her heart already pounding. Last night, with concern for Katy uppermost in her mind, she hadn’t given her appearance a thought. This morning she frantically dragged a brush through her hair and snapped a rubber band around it. She heard the door open and Katy exclaimed, ‘Oh, Eric, you angel! You brought my suitcases!’ She heard him stamp inside, then the kitchen door closing.

‘I figured you’d want them, and the way this wind is blowing, it might be a while before the tow trucks can get out there to haul your car out of the ditch.’

Maggie shshed lipstick on her mouth and wet some stray hairs above her ears.

‘Oh, thank you sooo much,’ Katy replied ecstatically. ‘I just said to Mom... Mom?’ After a pause, Katy’s puzzled voice repeated, ‘Mom? Where are you?’ Then, to Eric, ‘She was just here a second ago.’

Maggie tightened the belt on her robe, drew a deep breath, pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks and stepped around the corner into the kitchen.

“Well, good morning!’ she greeted brightly.

‘Good morning.’

He seemed to fill the room, dressed in his silver snowmobile suit, looking half again his size, bringing the smell of winter inside. While they smiled at each other she tried valiantly to appear collected, but it was altogether obvious what she’d been doing in the bathroom: her lipstick was bright, the sides of her hair wet, and she was breathing with a trace of difficulty.