Snowbound (13 page)

In the meantime, shed go out and chat with guests. Find out what she could do to help with dinner. Maybe there was even a load of laundry ready to go in. Lord knew, she was an expert on operating his washer and dryer.

Fiona got her hairbrush out of her purse, gave herself a brief inspection in his bathroom mirror and tidied herself, then went out to the kitchen.

Only the solitary reader remained, a man in his fifties at her best guess who didnt seem interested in who she was, but said aloud, I wonder if any of those cookies are left.

She looked in the pantry and found two different types. Chocolate chip or raisin oatmeal? she called.

There was a pause. I didnt know there were any raisin oatmeal. Maybe one of each.

She brought out a small plate with a selection, then heated water for a cup of tea for herself. She thought of finding herself something to read, but was content just to sit and sip. She loved this huge, open kitchen with knotty pine cabinets, plank floors, a sink big enough to take a bath in and old-fashioned, small-paned windows that looked out at the wintry forest. It smelled of good things, all probably baked that morning before guests arose: bread, cookies, perhaps pie. Fionas only companion was peaceful, contributing no more than the whisper of turned pages and a pleased murmur when he took a bite of cookie.

When John eventually returned, his brows were drawn together and impatience made his stride quick. His color was heightened from the cold, which accompanied him with a gust. When he saw her, he checked. Im sorry. I didnt mean to be gone so long.

Thats okay. She smiled at him. I made myself at home.

So I see. His face relaxed.

Good cookies, the guest remarked.

Glad you think so.

Whats for dinner? he asked.

John stole one longing look from Fiona to the bedroom door. Then, with resignation, he said, Spaghetti.

Fiona hid her smile. She had probably sampled his entire repertoire. Lets see. Spaghetti today means stir-fry tomorrow. Or was she misjudging him?

The reader nodded with apparent satisfaction and went back to his book, oblivious to Johns frustration.

I suppose I should get dinner started, he said finally.

Fiona swallowed the last of her tea. Ill help.

You dont have to. If youd rather read, go for a walk, take a bath

She almost wavered at mention of the bath. He had one of those sinfully deep claw-foot tubs in his bathroom, too. But there would be time. Right now, she wanted to be with him.

Never turn down help, she told him cheerfully.

A flash of humor had that amazingly softening effect on his face. Even when they break dishes?

Not even then. She stood. Shall I chop?

It felt like old times, except that it was other kids
not herswho wandered in to see what was cooking and whether they could snitch an illicit, before-dinner goody. Fiona immediately recognized the thirteen-year-old girl from his description. Hair veiled much of her face, her lower lip pouted, and her eyes rolled at everything the boy with her said. The parents were apparently out cross-country skiing, likely enjoying the break from their delightful offspring.

When dinner was ready, guests filled the long table. John and Fiona ate quickly at the counter, keeping an eye on the diners so they could respond to requests. The youngest boy spilled his milk. Fiona smiled at him, told him not to worry, and mopped it up. The teenage girl dipped her hair in her spaghetti and snapped at her father when he mildly suggested she put it in a ponytail. The gentleman whod read all afternoon in the kitchen remained solitary, as did the middle-aged woman from the living room. Otherwise, conversations crisscrossed, quieter ones between couples and family members, more general observations and questions a little louder.

Sky felt like snow this afternoon.

John nodded. We might get some. Just an inch or two, if the forecast is to be believed.

Would you pass the garlic bread?

What wonderful spaghetti!

Can you recommend another trail for tomorrow? Wed love to get up higher.

John was hardly effusive, but he answered questions and remained patient, just as he had with Fionas students.

He cut pie and she served as he set pieces on small plates.

No, he was sorry, no television, he told the sulky girl.

Not even in there? She jerked her head toward his room.

Gretchen!

In fact, Fiona knew that he had a television and DVD player, although she doubted he bothered often with movies. She waited with interest to hear what hed say.

John met the teens challenging gaze. Those are my private quarters. With no more comment, he moved away to get coffee for someone.

The girl said loudly, This sucks! A hotel with no TV.

Her brother braved her scathing glance to say, I thought it was fun to play games.

Why dont you come out with us tomorrow? her dad asked. It was beautiful along the creek.

And
cold.

He sighed and shook his head. Fiona hoped Gretchen wasnt enrolling in Willamette Prep.

Gradually the guests wandered out after compliments on dinner, and she and John worked in tandem cleaning up. In one way, it was so comfortable; theyd done it before, and she seemed to fall into the rhythm as if shed spent weeks or even months here before, rather than mere days. But in another waywell, she kept thinking about when they could close up the kitchen and retreat to his apartment. When theyd finally be alone together.

The reader closed his book at last, stood, stretched, nodded in their direction as if vaguely surprised that they were there and exited through the swinging door.

Are they really all gone? she whispered.

Temporarily. His tone was wry. Until they develop a yen for an evening snack.

Her kids had always wanted something later, she remembered guiltily.

What if we leave out cookies, tea and coffee makings, cocoa?

So its obvious theyre on their own? He gave her a slow smile that set her heart to thumping. I like the way you think.

She got out mugs and spoons and filled the teakettle with water while he laid out tea bags and packets of cocoa, a jar of instant coffee and a plate of cookies under clear plastic wrap.

I need to lock up. He disappeared. When he came back, he said, I mentioned that the kitchen would be self-service tonight.

Oh, good. She let him guide her, hand on the small of her back, to his room as if she didnt know where it was. Would you mind if I take a bath?

His gaze was heavy-lidded but not so imbued with urgency as it had been when she first arrived. Maybe he finally believed that she truly was here and would be for awhile. Take your time.

As lovely as the bath felt once she ran it, Fiona wasnt tempted to linger. Shed just wanted to feel clean.

When she came out of the bathroom, she thought for a moment John had fallen asleep. He sat in an upholstered rocker beside the woodstove, legs stretched out, head resting against the back, eyes closed.

They opened before she could feel even a whisper
of disappointment. They were intense, glowing with a fire he had obviously banked, and she saw that his relaxed pose was an illusion. Hed been waiting.

He rose to his feet, the chair rocking a few times behind him. Gaze never leaving her, he crossed the room.

Your cheeks are pink.

I think I ran the water too hot. Her voice sounded like someone elses.

He grazed his knuckles down her warm cheek. His voice was a murmur, gravelly enough to make heat pool low in her belly. I wanted you the first time I saw you.

II think I wanted you, too.

He brushed his lips over hers. You think?

In fact, she couldnt
think.

I was cold, and scared, and so grateful. She let her head fall back as he moved his mouth down her neck. Andand you werent very friendly.

He lifted his head to look at her. I was scared, too. By you.

A bubble of laughter came out as a hiccup, startling her.
And
of my horde of teenagers.

Yeah, of them, too. But now he stroked her throat with his fingers not the same way.

Imnot very scary, she managed to say, the words scarcely more substantial than her exhaled breath.

For a moment, a shadow crossed his face. Yeah, you are.

No. She lifted her hands and laid them on his cheeks, feeling the texture of the days growth of beard. Im here, arent I?

Yeah. Just like that, his voice was raw, and the emotion in his eyes so intense her heart cramped. You are.

He kissed her, his longing plain, but his hands and lips so gentle Fiona felt precious. Even loved.

Her last coherent thought was,
Please. Please let it be love.

H
ED ANTICIPATED
this a thousand times without really believing it would happen. Fiona would e-mail with a last-minute excuse. Half a dozen good ones came to mind without any effort on Johns part. She felt bad leaving her mother alone for Christmas. She was having car trouble. Whatever.
Maybe over spring break,
she might say.
But call if you get down my way.

Or the other possibility was that shed show up but go for the room upstairs. Hed been prepared for that. Even okay with it. He just wanted her here, laughing at him, kissing him, pushing him to talk even when he didnt want to.
Caring.

But hed gotten luckier than that. So much luckier, he was still in shock. Here she was, in his room, fresh from the bath, her hair curling even more from the steam, cheeks rosy, gaze shy. She hadnt gotten dressed again, nor had she slipped into a little negligee. Instead she wore flannel pajama pants and a simple white camisole. Withouta flicker of a glance told himhaving put a bra on beneath it.

Hed been aroused even before he kissed her. Now that he hadHe wished like hell hed had sex some
time within the last two years. It had been so damn long, he didnt know if he had the self-control not to come the minute he got inside her.

Slow things down,
he told himself, lifting his head. God, youre beautiful, he murmured.

You know Im not She stopped, humor briefly lighting her face. Never mind. Im not
really
dumb enough to try to convince you Im ordinary looking. Its okay for you to think Im beautiful. Gorgeous. Ravishing.

Wanting her to believe him, John covered her mouth. You have these fine bones. He traced a fingertip over her cheekbone, along the delicate line of her jaw. Big eyes that flash a thousand emotions. And questions. I can always see them crowding your head.

Right now she watched him helplessly, as if he held power over her.

Do you know how shiny your hair is? His fingers slipped into the strands. You turn your head and it shimmers.

She let out a tiny sound.

Your voice. Gentle but with steel beneath when youre in schoolmarm mode.

She opened her mouth as if to protest, and he silenced her by kissing her. Lightly, ending with a tug at her lower lip.

And your lips, he whispered, are perfect. Not thin, not pouty, justsweet. And sexy.

You know, she said, voice thready, you dont have to flatter me. I was already yours with the should I take your suitcase upstairs?

Yeah, I do. John knew he wasnt very good being romantic, but he felt he owed her the words. The next
ones, though, he didnt know how to say. They came out sounding awkward. Mostly, though, its not the way you look. Itsyou.

Her forehead crinkled. What do you mean?

Your optimism. The way you want to believe in everybody. Your honesty, your kindness His throat clogged. You have a gift for seeing people. Looking past the outside.

You mean, your scar. She reached up and stroked it, her fingers as gentle as an early spring breeze.

Yeah, he said gruffly. My scar.

Well, its my turn. This scar, it doesnt disfigure you! It made me worry about how much it must have hurt, and how close that shrapnel or whatever it was came to your eye. But youre as handsome as you were before. Youre, um, a hunk. She blushed. Even the girls noticed, believe me.

Crap,
he
was blushing at the idea of teenage girls observing him that way.

Dont worry. A smile lightened her voice. Theyre just hoping the boys their age come out nearly as well.

God, he muttered.

Any humor fled. Andand Im not here because of how you look, either. Im here because of
you.

That was the part he didnt get. He knew what he was: bad-tempered, withdrawn, and, yeah, a little bit crazy. Sane men didnt see blood soaking pristine white snow. They didnt wake up shouting warnings that came a year too late.

But he was sane enough to want to take what she was offering. Acceptance, friendship, healing. And, yeah, sex. He wanted the sex something fierce.

I was afraid you wouldnt come, John said gruffly.

I was about to make reservations here.

I havent put anyone in your room since the day you left.

Uh-oh. Tears sprang into her eyes. Darn it, now Im getting weepy!

He caught a tear from her lash on his fingertip. Have I killed the mood here?

With sudden fierceness, she said, Not on your life, and went up on tiptoe to throw her arms around his neck.

John caught her close and kissed her. The words made what they did now easier, as if in talking openly they had shed any need to be self-conscious.

She pushed his flannel shirt off, then made him help take off the T-shirt beneath it. Fiona lifted her arms with breathtaking trust so that he could remove her chemise. She did flush when he looked at her small, high breasts, but she arched her back willingly when he cupped them, then bent to kiss each.

He hadnt had the foresight to ditch his boots and socks, and had to sit down to do that. She knelt and helped him, when she wasnt nipping at his earlobe or stroking his thigh. He was so hard by the time he was done, he didnt think he could have gotten his jeans unzipped
without
help. The feel of her fingers as she undid the button, then eased down the zipper, was like coming into contact with a live wire. Felt in every corpuscle of his body, and damn near painful but the best pain hed ever imagined. He was gasping by the time she freed his erection.

She made choked little sounds as she stroked him. He had to grip her hand.

Imon the thin edge here.

Oh. A slow, satisfied smile was incredibly erotic. Shall I make things worse? Before he could answer, she stood, put her hands at the waistband of her flannel pajama bottoms and pushed them down until they pooled on the floor and she could step out of them.

He growled something; her name, an expletive, he didnt know. She was exquisite. Pale-skinned, fine-boned, long-legged, with those perfect, small breasts and just enough curve at her hips. Hair as dark as that on her head curled at the apex of her thighs. John groaned, gripped the arms of the chair and momentarily closed his eyes.

Then he surged to his feet, lifted her high and deposited her on the bed, coming down on top of her. As naturally as if theyd made love a thousand times before, her legs parted to welcome him, tangling with his. It was all he could do to grope in the bedside drawer, find a condom and put it on.

Foreplay might not have been what it should be, but she didnt seem to care and he couldnt have waited another second to enter her. The feel of her enclosing him, not just her core but her arms and legs, and her mouth open against his, was the most glorious sensation hed ever known. When almost immediately her body spasmed, and she whispered his name against his lips, he had the dazed thought that hed found heaven on earth. Then he let himself drive into her once, twice, a dozen times, and empty himself of all his bitterness in a climax that shattered himand yet left him whole on the other side.

T
HE FIRST DAYS
were wonderful. Fiona didnt think shed ever been happier in her life.

She got up early and kneaded dough while he heated the ovens and spooned muffins into tins. Once the bread was in the oven, she slipped on a wool sweater and stepped outside on the front porch with him, each of them cradling a mug of coffee, to watch dawn lighten the sky. The first morning it came gradually, charcoal-gray becoming infinitesimally paler shades until they could see fine snowflakes floating toward the ground, moving so slowly it was as if time itself had slowed, too. The second morning, she understood why John didnt care that no movie theater was within driving distance. Hollywood couldnt touch this show.

The colors alone stole her breath. She had seen glorious sunsets, but these colors had more delicacy. She couldnt have named the vivid hues. The words pink or peach were woefully inadequate. And all the while, the world was utterly silent, as if it, too, held its breath.

When the show was done and morning arrived, she looked up at John and said, voice hushed, I never knew what I was missing.

Its not the same down there. He, too, spoke quietly, as if out of respect. Until I came up here, I didnt know.

Surely in Iraq, with open desert

He shook his head. This time, his voice was flat. No. Dawn thereit was splashier.

Yes, that was the word shed have used for sunsets on the coast, where she and her family used to vacation.

Id better check the bread. He turned and went in,
leaving her to follow and wonder: had he gone in because the show was done, or because she had made him think of a time and place he wanted to forget?

Worry niggled at Fiona for the first time since shed arrived. Was it chance that they hadnt yet talked about his experience in Iraq?

Well, perhaps chance wasnt the right word. The truth was, last night they hadnt been able to keep their hands off each other. They hadnt done nearly as much talking as shed imagined.

A smile curved Fionas mouth. Nope, she didnt regret how theyd spent the night at all. Besides, they still had plenty of time to talk.

She followed him in, almost satisfied that shed imagined his change of tone at her mere mention of Iraq.

The lodge didnt quite empty on the morning of the twenty-fourth, but over half the guests left. The two singles were still here, still completely uninterested in each other or anyone else, and one couple stayed. They were the ones that surprised Fiona. They dressed well, and had been rather social since she arrived, as if being so came naturally to them. She could picture them hosting Christmas parties, not choosing to celebrate the holidays in a rustic lodge far from the trappings that meant Christmas to most people.

Curious, but trying to avoid being tactless, Fiona asked casually over lunch, Have you stayed here before over Christmas? Its going to be different for me.

The woman seemed to force a smile. Our daughter is a junior in college. Shes doing the entire year abroad.

Oh? Where is she?

The University of Cape Town.

Oh, dear. I can see why she didnt fly home for the holidays.

We talked about going over there, but its all I can do to make myself get on an airplane to zip down to L.A. It takes something like twenty-five hours to get to South Africa. She shuddered. Anywaysome friends and she are traveling over the break. Its summer there, you know.

You must miss her, Fiona said, her gaze caught by the deep sadness in the womans eyes.

Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded, and a moment later they made their excuses and left the kitchen. Fiona felt bad that shed reminded them of how far away their daughter was and how unlikely that, having flown the nest, shed ever come home for long again.

That made her think of her own mother, who would be celebrating Christmas for the first time without
her
daughter. She knew Fiona wasnt likely to call, given the cell phone coverage here, and they planned to get together as soon as Fiona was home.

John had put up a rather pathetic Christmas treea scraggly six-footer dwarfed by the high ceiling and massive peeled log pillars in the living area. When she chided him about it, he shrugged.

Couldnt have put up much bigger with the tree stand I found. Wouldnt have been enough ornaments for a bigger tree, either.

Or lights. Fiona resolved, studying the tree, to hit the after-Christmas sales when she got home and mail him a new string or two of lights and some boxes of ornaments for future holidays.

Their small group gathered in front of the fire that evening, sipped hot spiced cider and talked about Christmases past. With the multicolored lights on the tree, the deep comfortable chairs and the crackling fire, the modest sense of companionship seemed to suffice for everyone. They dispersed at an hour that would have seemed absurd to her at home, murmuring, Merry Christmas, as if they meant itand, in the case of the curmudgeon who liked to plant himself at the kitchen table all day, as if he were
surprised
to mean it.

In bed, Fiona and John made love with the same, astonishing passion theyd felt the first time, sweetly tempered with patience and newfound knowledge of where to touch to please each other.

On Christmas morning, while they were still in bed, John presented her with a small, wrapped gift. Smiling, she had to scramble from bed, hurrying with bare feet on the cold floor, to get his from her suitcase.

They unwrapped simultaneously, John seeming pleased with the selection of DVDs shed bought, all movies she loved and he hadnt seen. Wrapped with them was a pair of tickets to her local multiplex. He stared down at them.

A little worried, she said, For when you come to see me.

Thank you. He nodded. Open the box.

His gift was a pair of earrings, pretty ones with central diamonds surrounded by tiny rubies, but she was oddly disappointed. No, that was sillyhow could he know enough about her life to give her something deeply meaningful?

What she wanted most from him, Fiona realized, couldnt have been wrapped and tied with a bow, anyway. What she wanted was for him to tell her why he was wounded so badly in spirit as well as body.

But, goodnessthey were still tap dancing around all kinds of intimate subjects! Trust came with time, with knowledge of each other. In the meantime, Fiona settled happily into the lodge life she remembered, except now she got to sleep in Johns bed with him.

She waited on guests while he wrestled with a frozen water pipe, coming back with raw knuckles on one hand. She found she didnt mind cleaning the bathrooms or changing bedding when one family left and another arrived and he was busy carrying out bags or hauling in wood.

She remembered from that first time feeling astonished at the quantity of food her group of kids ate, the laundry they generated. But within a day she realized there were
more
people in the lodge now, which meant more food to prepare, more dishes to wash, more towels to wash and dry and fold. And this was
normal.
Three days of working beside him, and she should have been exhausted. Instead she was content.