Carol of the Bellskis (8 page)

Seth's phone vibrated in his pocket. He silenced it again and nudged Lars more violently.

“Wake up.”

Lars's blue eyes snapped open. “Huh?”

“Time to start breakfast, if you're going to earn your keep around here.”

Lars's eyes were slanted, and he grinned slowly. His hands came up, and he pulled Seth

down on top of him, curling his long body around Seth's, burying his head in the crook of Seth's

neck. “Let's sleep in,” he mumbled, and then he promptly fell asleep again.

Seth lay trapped in Lars's arms. He jabbed his finger into Lars's side, and he woke up

instantly.

“Ouch!”

“Start breakfast,” Seth said, getting out of bed.

Lars scowled at him. “This is supposed to be my vacation too, you know.”

“Assholes who lie about their lovers don't deserve vacations,” Seth stated.

Seth expected Lars to protest, but instead he just rubbed his hand over his face. “Fine, fine.

Jesus. Why is it so dark in here? When are the lights coming on?”

“Around nine.” Seth watched out of the corner of his eye as Lars got dressed. His rolling

suitcase contained an impressive amount of clothing. Lars was nothing if not a perfectionist in

his attire. As he struggled to pull a pair of jeans over his fading but still-noticeable erection, he

smirked at Seth and gestured to it.

Seth gave him the finger and left the room.

Carol of the Bellskis

45

Seth joined the guests in the dining room and chatted. All the while his phone vibrated

nearly constantly in his pocket. Lars served breakfast cheerily, although Seth knew him well

enough to see the exhaustion in his eyes.

Chaim, thrilled with his ugly bowl of teff grain, walked to shul. Seth reminded him to ask

about the Bellskis.

Seth changed into warm clothes and walked outside so he could finally answer his phone.

He didn't want the guests to see him breaking the Shabbat rules, but whoever was calling was not

giving up. Outside, the snow had stopped falling and the sun shone, but it was bitterly cold,

several degrees below freezing.

Seth walked down the road and listened to his messages. He had thirteen.

Dave Bellski, Carl's cousin. Rose Epstein, Judi's sister. Naomi Bellski, Carl's sister-in-law.

The entire East Coast Bellski clan had mobilized.

There was panic everywhere.

Seth retold the same story over and over, getting mixed results. Some of his relatives

yelled at him that the Bellskis were fine, that nothing could kill them, that they were

impenetrable forces of sheer will and strong bone. Others knew they were going to be killed out

there in the wild, with the bears and the rabid deer. Others said it was all up to God. Others said

it was all up to Seth Bellski.

“You go out there and find them!” was one sage piece of advice, from a Merl Greenburg,

some distant relation Seth couldn't even remember meeting.

“For God's sake, lock the door and don't go outside! There could be anti-Semites out

there!” was more astute wisdom, this time from Grandma Adler, his father's sister's mother-in-

law.

The sun beamed, the streets warmed, cars drove, people enjoyed the scenery, skiers slid

down mountains, and all the while, Seth talked on the phone. He talked until his phone battery

died. Then he slipped back into the B and B, stealthily plugged his phone in, and hid it under the

bed like a delinquent child.

Meanwhile, around the house, magic happened. Showers turned on for invisible audiences.

The toaster oven heated and cooled like an indecisive lover. The house answered the religious

call of the orthodox Saturday afternoon by requiring no one to lift a finger.

46

Astrid Amara

Lars went for a long run in the morning and spent lunch reading Aunt Judi's cookbooks.

But in the afternoon he found Seth and begged a chance to talk and go for a walk together.

Against his better judgment Seth agreed, and the two of them strolled through Whistler Village.

It was nice to get away from the B and B and the troubles, but every happy moment Seth spent

with Lars seemed like another knife between the ribs. This all had to end.

Lars's phone rang persistently as well, despite it being Saturday and despite Lars being on

vacation. He apologized every time, but he clearly still felt the need to take each call. Seth could

tell when Lars lowered his voice that he was talking to Adam Finch.

“I'll have to get back to you on that,” Lars said, eyeing Seth, giving him an apologetic

shrug. His inability to switch his phone to silent annoyed Seth.

Still, Lars was trying. He pulled out all the stops, charming Seth, flirting like he had when

he first seduced Seth over a year ago. Seth had been flattered by the attention back then, and

even now he could sense the affection radiating from Lars, his honest desire to make Seth laugh,

to please him, to wear down Seth's resolve.

Lars tsked as Seth clenched his hands in the cold. He grabbed Seth's arm and led him into

the North Face and tried to buy him an expensive pair of leather gloves.

“I don't need them,” Seth protested.

“I want you to have them, for here at least,” Lars reasoned. “Come on. You're going to be

in Whistler another four days, you'll want them.”

Seth gave in. “Thanks.”

Lars grinned and paid for them. When he returned, Seth pulled them on. He held up his

hands. “How do I look?”

“Like the most attractive man I've ever met.” Lars stared hard at Seth.

Seth couldn't respond. Lars leaned down and kissed him.

It was such a shock, Seth froze. Lars had never kissed him in public, never even held his

hand where others could see him. Seth couldn't close his eyes. He stared, stunned, as Lars gave

him a deep kiss and then, slowly pulling back, looked hesitantly into his eyes.

“Hey?”

Seth swallowed. Around them, people ostentatiously averted their eyes and hurried past.

Carol of the Bellskis

47

“I can't believe you just did that,” Seth whispered.

“I'm learning,” Lars whispered back.

Seth reached up and cupped the back of Lars's neck. He pulled him in for another kiss,

when suddenly Lars went rigid and jerked away from Seth.

“What?” Seth asked.

Lars walked backward, slipping into a clothing aisle.

Seth followed him. “Lars, what's wrong?”

“Shh!” Lars grabbed Seth and pulled him close, dragging him into the coats.

Seth stared out. “What are we doing?”

And then he saw him. Tall man, bald, with an impressive round gut and a long, expensive

coat. A woman half his age clasped his arm. Seth recognized that sharp face at once. It was

Glenn Bowen, one of Finch and Varga's wealthiest clients, a man Lars had just successfully

negotiated a settlement for in the tens of millions.

Seth glanced to Lars, stock-still beside him. Lars had gone pale and watched Bowen's

movements like a hidden rabbit eyeing an approaching mountain lion.

“Come on,” Seth said, grabbing Lars's hand to lead him the other way.

Lars dropped Seth's hand as if it burned.

“Fuck you,” Seth said angrily, not caring if his voice carried. He pushed his way out of the

coats and left the store. His heart beat furiously. He was such a fucking idiot.

He started walking home. It was a long distance, and he hoped that Lars got lost.

No such luck.

He heard Lars behind him, running to catch up. “Wait! Seth!”

As soon as Lars caught up, Seth shoved him in the chest.

Lars's eyes flashed dangerously.

Seth squared his shoulders, almost daring Lars to hit him. But Lars's expression crumpled

in confusion.

“What's wrong with you?” Lars touched Seth's arm.

48

Astrid Amara

“What's wrong with
me
?” Seth pulled away from him. “You know what?
Fuck you.

Seriously. Everything's fine one second, and the next you drop my hand as if touching me

physically repulses you!”

Lars looked surprised. “Of course it doesn't! What are you talking about?”

“What happened in there?” Seth cried.

“Glenn Bowen was in there.”

“I noticed.”

Lars frowned.

“So what?” Seth snapped.

“I thought he saw us!”

“Again,
so the fuck what
?” Seth shouted. “You're done with his case! He's not your client

anymore!”

Lars swallowed. “Seth, I just didn't want to make a scene.”

Seth walked away. Lars followed him.

“For fuck's sake. Talk to me,” Lars begged.

“Go home. I'm sick of you.”

“Stop being a baby. You know perfectly well that this has nothing to do with my not

wanting to touch you.”

Seth didn't answer. Lars continued after him, until Seth turned and shoved him again.

“Stay the fuck away from me!”

Seth walked on. To Seth's relief, Lars stopped following. He turned for just a moment, to

see Lars standing there, pale and wide-eyed, looking shot through the heart.

Good, Seth thought. He wished he could enjoy the feeling.

Instead he felt like puking. His heart shuddered painfully in his chest.

Back at the B and B, Seth slipped off his coat and slunk upstairs to his room for a quiet nap

before dinner. He tried hard, but there was no way he could sleep when his chest felt so sore and

his throat locked in that terrible way.

Carol of the Bellskis

49

He hoped Lars would be gone when he woke up, but he never actually slept, and of course,

he didn't really want Lars to leave. That was the worst part. He was a hypocrite. He hated the fact

that, when he heard Lars's low voice downstairs, relief washed through him at the same level as

his anger.

But there were other voices downstairs, growing in volume. It got dark outside, time for

Shabbat to end and the third candle to be lit. He forced himself out of his room and downstairs to

meet his guests, who paced the living room, debating whether they should break the rules of

Shabbat and call the police or wait until it was completely dark.

“What's happened now?” Seth complained, rubbing his temples. He couldn't take much

more of this.

“It's Mendel!” Rita Rosenbaum cried. “I can't find him!”

In her panic, she couldn't explain the situation very well. Sharon and Heidi Neidlich

translated, however.

“They had a fight,” Sharon told him. “And Mendel stormed out toward the woods, but he

hasn't come back.”

“Sometimes people just want to be alone after an argument,” Seth said testily as he looked

over to where Lars stood silently by the dining-room table. He had set it for dinner, Seth noticed.

Lars looked upset but didn't say a word.

“He's been gone for four hours,” Sharon said. “Rita doesn't think it's normal.”

Rita was too busy crying in front of the fireplace to answer.

“For God's sake, do we have a vortex hidden in the basement here? Where are all these

missing people going?” Seth grabbed his coat.

“Hold on. I'll come with you,” Lars said.

Seth nearly shouted,
Don't bother
, but Sharon grabbed her coat as well. “We can help too.”

Heidi ran up to their room to fetch her jacket and returned, bundled as if a single snowflake

touching her skin would kill her instantly.

Outside, the snow started to fall again, but it did so lazily, in swirly, halfhearted circles.

“If you two follow this path,” Seth told the sisters, pointing to the left, “it will eventually

circle back and spit you out behind the garage over there. Do you have phones on you?”

50

Astrid Amara

Heidi nodded and held up her cell phone. It looked minuscule inside her skiing mitten.

They exchanged numbers, and then Seth led Lars in the other direction.

The trail was partly obscured by the heavy snow, but before long Seth made out footsteps,

although they looked to be hours old.

Lars didn't say anything at first, and Seth was glad. He was still too angry to speak, and if

Lars said the wrong word, Seth feared he would actually hit him.

“You sure you know where you're going?” Lars asked finally, breaking the icy silence.

Seth nodded. “I've walked these trails for years now. Besides, you can see his footsteps

here.”

Lars squinted in the dark. “Where?”

Seth waved at the outline with his flashlight.

Lars straightened and gave Seth an odd look.

“What?” Seth asked.

Lars shrugged. A few steps later, he kicked at the snow. “That's pretty cool.”

“What is?”

“You. Tracking someone in the dark.”

Seth snorted. “It's not like I'm reading scat in the wilderness for a rare species of bird. I'm

following large footprints in fresh snow.”

“Still. I'm impressed.” Lars sounded humbled. He moved a little closer.

Seth smiled to himself. “You don't think much of me, do you?”

“Eh?” Lars scowled at him. “What do you mean?”

“I'm just your paralegal,” Seth said. “You don't respect that, and so in a way, you don't

respect me.”

“That's not true. I have no idea how you organized that filing system.” Lars smiled as he

said it.

But Seth just sighed. “You think I'm a chump.”

Lars scoffed. “Come on. You know I have too much ego to be with a chump. I can only be