Snowbound (15 page)

Oddly enough, the second thing that happened was right after that class, when Tabitha and Kelli stopped at her desk on their way out.

They glanced at each other, somehow silently electing Tabitha spokesperson. We were thinking about Mr. Fallon and the lodge. Some of us were talking about how maybe wed e-mail once in a while. If you have an address for him.

Her eyes narrowed. Now, why would they be asking about John at this exact moment, when shed just accepted a date with another man? But she couldnt believe one had anything to do with the othernot in their teen-centered world viewso after a moment she concluded the timing really was just coincidental.

Who is some of you? she asked.

Wellnot Amy.

No, of course not Amy.

But Dieter and even Erin. We were, like, talking the other day.

Fiona wondered what had triggered the conversation.

Do you ever talk to him? Kelli sounded elaborately casual.

You know he doesnt really have phone service.

No, I mean e-mail or IM or something.

Not in a long while. I do have his e-mail address at home, though. Im sure hed be flattered to hear from you. Ill bring it tomorrow. She nodded at them, and they accepted the dismissal, glancing back as they bumped into each other crowding through the doorway.

What in heck was that about?

But she didnt waste a lot of time speculating. The following day she brought his e-mail address as promised and gave it to Tabitha on a self-stick note. Then she turned her thoughts to the dinner date that might be fun, if only she could get past the idea of Chad wanting to kiss her.

T
HERE WERE A COUPLE
of unfamiliar e-mails, but John ignored them until hed replied to his sisters.

Business has been slow these past few weeksthis is the in-between season. Not enough snow, not enough sun. Same as last year. But itll pick up soon.

He paused, then surprised himself by typing,

Why dont you come up for a visit?

John almost backspaced to obliterate the invitation he hadnt known he was going to offer, but, although his finger hovered above the key, in the end he moved his hand to the mouse and clicked Send. Liz was
unlikely to come anyway. She sounded plenty busy, and content with their e-mail correspondence if invariably concerned about him in a sisterly way.

He was surviving. There wasnt much else he could say. In some ways, hed regressed since Fiona left. The nightmares had returned full-force, and hed had two major, full-color, 3-D flashbacks, although in neither case, thank God, had he actually tackled a guest. Once he had yelled a warning and started running toward two men coming down the porch steps. Hed seenGod, as real as they werea robed figure skirting the porch to intercept them. Hed seen the odd way the robe draped, the mass of something unnatural around the chest. But in his flashback, there was no explosion, and he reached the foot of the steps to find only the two bewildered guests. Sweating, shaking, hed looked up and found inspiration.

I must be seeing things.
You think?
he mocked himself. I could have sworn that icicle was breaking free.

They both looked up as well, at the dagger of ice that could indeed have done some damage if it had fallen, and one of them said, You might want to knock that baby off.

He had, because they were right; with the melt, it could fall at the wrong time. Solving the problem of what
he
might do at the wrong time was another matter.

E-mails from buddies. Hed been sending more these past few monthsone form of progressand therefore getting more in return. One guy from his platoon was in a Veterans hospital recovering from the loss of his left lower leg, shattered by mortar. His e-mails were somewhere between philosophical and pissed. John wondered if Miller would be honest if John were to ask,
Do you have nightmares, too? Ever had a flashback? Can you talk to your family? Girlfriend? I mean, really tell them how you feel about losing your leg, about the stuff you saw over there? Just wondering if all of us are having the same problems.

But of course he didnt, just sent the usual chitchat back.

Hed figured the two e-mails from unknown senders would be some kind of spam. Sure, hed want to help some poor Nigerian widow get out of the country so she could share her millions with him. Instead he got a surprise.

Mr. Fallon,

I dont know if you remember me. Im one of the students who got stranded there before Thanksgiving, during that big storm. Ms. Mac, you know, Ms. MacPherson, gave me your e-mail address. I just wanted to say thanks again. All of us had a really fun time there. Im trying to talk my parents into coming up to stay maybe this summer.

Were doing really good. Erin and Troy and all the other seniors are so worried about what colleges they get into theyre like no fun to talk to. I guess Ill be like that next year, too.

Ms. Mac is good, too. You probably hear from her anyway. Did she tell you shes started dating Mr. Scammell, one of our vice principals? Hes like the enforcer. You know? He suspends kids and expels them and stuff like that. Maybe hes okay I mean Ive never been in trouble so I dont know.

Anyhoothanks. Maybe Ill see you this summer. Tabitha

Untangling a few of the sentences with no commas to help took him a minute, but finally he sat back. He tried to think, despite feeling as if hed been slammed by a recoil.

Back in November, along with a generous reimbursement check from the school district, hed gotten a series of dutifully written thank-you notes from the students, each mailed separately. Fiona hadnt gathered them up to send them together, but it was pretty obvious shed expected each and every one of them to write him. Even Amy had thanked him prettily.

Tabitha had been a nice girl, but he didnt remember making any kind of personal connection with her. Stillmaybe she was just being friendly. Wanting him to recognize her if she showed up with her parents.

Or maybe not. Maybe she was trying to tell him something. Burying that something in enough chatter so as not to be obvious.

The something could only be her news about Ms. Mac, her teacher.

She was dating? It was only March! How long ago had she and this Scammell started? The week after she got back, having written John off?

Anger, his familiar companion, stirred. Maybe shed set Tabitha up to e-mail him, to taunt him.
You blew it, buddy.

After a minute, he replied, telling Tabitha that of course he remembered her, it was nice to hear from her, and he hoped hed see her and her family.

Then he moved on to the second e-mail from an unfamiliar address, and was a whole lot less surprised to see that it was from Dieter.

The boys was even longer, telling him about a later Knowledge Champ competition down in Eugene and how both Willamette Prep teams had rocked, and how he had a girlfriend now.

Willow. Remember her? She might try out for Hi-Q with me next year.

Hi-Q, John knew, was an even more demanding form of academic competition.

Dieter was more straightforward when it came to the news about his beloved Ms. Mac.

I thought you two liked each other, he typed indignantly.

And she went up to see you at Christmas and all. So what happened? I asked her and she wont say. Your friend Dieter

John stared at the screen, unaware for the moment of the librarian reading to a bunch of preschoolers while their mothers browsed shelves, or of the fact that his allotted half hour on the computer was nearly up.

Yeah, Fallon. What
did
happen?

Multiple choice answer. A, she found him unworthy because he wouldnt tell her in grisly detail about his service in Iraq and how he came to be injured. Or, B, she thought part of love was reaching out to each other, but hed kept his hands at his sides.

A or B. How to reach out. Now, on a rush of fear and sickening hurt, he was hearing the words:
Too late.
They pinged around in his head like the shiny metal ball in an old-fashioned pinball machine.

Too late. Ding! Too late. Ding!

He couldnt reply. He closed his Yahoo account, pushed back the chair and walked out of the library, forgetting the pile of books hed intended to check out but had left beside the computer.

Too late.

Or was it? Key in the lock of his 4Runner, he stopped. Maybe
thats
why the kids had e-mailed him. To say,
We think she liked you better, butyou gotta
do
something.

He gazed at the hand that held the key and realized it was shaking.

Do something. But
what?

T
HE EVENING OUT
was okay. Just that, no more. If it hadnt been a date, if she and Chad had been having dinner together as friends, shed have enjoyed herself more. But as it was, she kept waiting for even a flicker of attraction to manifest itself, and worrying about whether shed hurt Chad if she told him she didnt want to go out with him again. She knew she was sabotaging herself; if not for John, shed have been pleasantly surprised when Chad asked her out. Shed have been thinking how much they had in common, what nice eyes he had. Shed have been gearing herself up to
feel
attraction.

But compared to how she had felt from the first moment shed seen John FallonWell, she wasnt sure she should have agreed to this evening at all.

When shed unlocked her apartment door and Chad bent his head, Fiona let his mouth touch hers lightly, then stepped back.

Thank you for a nice evening.

Can we do it again?

Shed had every intention of using him to get over John, but Fiona found that she couldnt bring herself to continue.

Only if its as friends. She put out a hand. Im sorry, Chad. There was someone, andI guess Im not as ready to start over as I hoped I was.

He nodded, looking regretful enough to flatter her, but also resigned. Ive been getting those signals all evening. Its okay, Fiona. I wanted to give it a shot, buthey, we were already friends. Lets keep it that way.

Really? Id miss having you show up at lunchtime.

Ill be there Monday. He smiled. Dont worry. Lock up. See you at school.

She shot the dead bolt once the door was closed, then realized that, after hed been so nice, she felt even worse about encouraging him. Exceptheck, it wasnt like theyd had an awful evening. And at least shed been honest at the end.

Of course, this didnt bode well for the moving on plan. A nice, good-looking guy asked her out, and she couldnt work up a shred of interest.

Knowing it was hopeless but unable to prevent herself, Fiona went to her computer and booted it. She wanted so passionately for there to be an e-mail from John, even a
Hey, I think about you sometimes.

No such luck, of course. Her dad had e-mailed to let her know he and Shelly, his current wife, were back from Hawaii. He grumbled about how rainy it had been and said they thought next year theyd take a cruise instead.

She sent a brief reply and suggested they have dinner some night at a favorite Portland restaurant, then thought,
I could e-mail John again. Just to say how are you.

But then she pictured his face as shed last seen it,
stiff with anger and wounded pride, and knew hed ignore this e-mail, just as he had her last one. The door was already open.

But he wouldnt be coming through it. Thats what hurt so badly.

She hadnt cried over him in a long time, and she didnt tonight, but she did go to bed feeling sad and extraordinarily bleak.

J
OHN HAD BEEN
taken aback when his sister leaped at his invitation, confirmed that he had empty rooms the very next weekend and showed up midafternoon that Friday.

Their older sister looked more like their mother. Both John and Liz took after their father, with dark hair and brown eyes. Liz possessed an innate sense of style, although he knew well that it was careless; she rarely expended much time or thought on what she wore, and yet she never went out the door looking less than chic.

Unlike Fiona, shed brought only a small bag. John knew his sister well enough to guess that she was unlikely to step outside until she left to go home. Like a pampered house cat, Liz hated being cold or wet, and her idea of enjoying nature was admiring autumn colors from the comfort of her snazzy Nissan 350Z. She
always
had a cute, sporty car, usually leased so she could move on to a new one every couple of years.

He grinned at the sight of her picking her way gingerly across the wet grass in high-heeled, completely inappropriate boots. Waiting at the top of the steps, shoulder propped against the post, he said, You know I live out in the woods.

She lifted her head and her face lit. The very reason Ive never visited. Im terrified to find out what your bathroom facilities are like. Please tell me I dont have to take a cold shower outside while yanking some string.

Nope. He grinned again. Theres no shower at the lodge.

What? His sister stopped dead.

The bathtubs are nice.

Grumbling under her breath, she climbed the steps and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Ive arrived.

So I see. Arm around her shoulders, he raised his brows. And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?

Liz never bothered to be less than blunt. Im worried about you. What else?

You missed me?

Well, of course I missed you! The fact that you never visit is
why
Im worried. Surely you occasionally hanker for a really fine dinner, or a movie, or a trip to Powells?

He winced. He did love Powells, Portlands famous bookstore in which used and new books mingled in a maze of rooms on multiple floors that covered a city block.

So whats up? she challenged.

Can we talk later? he asked.

As long as we do it. She marched past him, then waited pointedly until he opened the heavy front door for her.

John showed her to Fionas room. He still hadnt put guests in here, mainly because the lodge hadnt been completely full at any time since Christmas. Just yesterday hed made up the bed. Liz nodded her approval,
checked out the bathroom and said, Okay, now
thats
a tub, then asked what she could do to help with dinner.

High-heeled boots and all, she chopped and sauted and with aplomb served the two couples who were currently guests. She helped clean the kitchen after dinner, too. When they were done, she said, Coffee.

He poured two cups.

Sit, she ordered.

Crap. He sat.

This is a nice place. Its pretty. Her tone said,
For those who like such things.
Last February, when you bought the lodge, it seemed like a plan. Maybe even a good investment. But now youve been here over a year. Its been almost a year since you visited Mom and Dad.

I love them, but I cant talk to them.

A lot of people cant talk to their parents. They still show up for obligatory holiday visits. You know. Thanksgiving? Christmas?

Those are my busiest times of the year.

Momentarily diverted, she said, Did you celebrate at
all?

I cooked a turkey at Thanksgiving. And all the trimmings. At Christmas What to say about Christmas?
I exchanged gifts in bed with the woman I love?

What? You cooked a ham? His sister wasnt impressed.

I put up a tree. We had a party. If sedately sipping mulled cider and gazing at a poor excuse for a Christmas tree qualified.

Her tone gentled. Do you ever see friends?

Nerves were jumping under his skin, making him
twitchy, and it was all he could do just to sit here under Lizs penetrating stare.

Some are over there on another tour. Ones in a VA hospital. A couple of the guys live on the East Coast. Humes lives in Houston.

What about friends from before the war?

Of course, he couldnt talk to them, either. Felt completely remote from them as if they were distant acquaintances. Most hadnt understood why he had joined the National Guard in the first place, and had been aghast at the idea of him giving up so much to ship out.

Lizzie He hadnt called her that in a long time. I cant go back.

Just as quietly, her tone terrifyingly gentle, she said, Yes, you can. All the way? No. You wont be the same. Nobody expects you to be. But to the point where you can connect with people who love you? Sure you can. Youve justchosen not to.

He couldnt sit for another second. The chair scraped on the tile floor as he shoved back from the table. I dontchoose His voice was strangled.

His sister tilted her head back so that her implacable, yet also kindeven pityinggaze never left his, even when he backed away. Its like living with a disease. Or being an addict. The
what
you cant change. The how you deal with itthat you can. Youre the diabetic who wont go to the doctor, wont check his blood sugar level, even though he feels lousy. John, you need help. Counseling. Somebody who will understand.

She wanted me to talk to her. He felt as if he was
listening to somebody else. Somebody in such agony, he couldnt keep his goddamn mouth shut.

His sisters antennae quivered. She?

John gripped the back of the chair. Looking down, he saw distantly that his knuckles were white. I met someone.

He thought he heard Liz murmur, Hallelujah, but wasnt sure.

Fionas a teacher. She and eight of her students were snowbound here during that big storm in November.

She nodded, as if slotting pieces into a puzzle. So what happened?

We e-mailed afterward. She came up to stay over Christmas break.

Ah.

She wanted me to tell her what happened. Realizing one hand had somehow come to be touching his scar, John yanked it away and gripped the chair again.

And? Liz prodded.

I cant keep reliving it for everyone whos curious.

Curious? You want her to love you, but you cant tell her about something so fundamental to who you are now?

Desperate, he asked, Why do the details matter?

Because they matter to you. If they didnt, youd be able to talk about it.

Thats simplistic, he argued.

All she did was challenge him with a look, something shed perfected by the time she was five years old. Yeah?

When he didntcouldntanswer, she said, So, you blew it with thisFiona? Is it a hopeless cause?

Shes started seeing someone else. One of the students e-mailed me.

Uh-huh. Whats the last thing she said to you?

Said, or e-mailed?

Talking a placid sip of her coffee, his sister said, So she e-mailed later. Okay. What did she say then?

That I knew where to find her if I wanted to talk.

So, not hopeless.

His spirits rose momentarily, then crashed and burned. That was three months ago.

Idiot, his beloved little sister said without heat.

The price was too high.

Her eyes narrowed. Actually talking to her.
Thats
too high a price?

John shifted uneasily. I talked.

But not about the big pink elephant crashing around in the living room. She was supposed to ignore that.

She knewI had issues. The searing pain in his gut was back.

Issues?

Nightmares.

Before she came up here at Christmas? She knew you had nightmares? Which means she
slept
with you when she had students here?

He scowled at her. Of course she didnt.

So, not nightmares. What?

Flashbacks! he shouted, then closed his eyes.
Get a grip.
I had a flashback, he mumbled. Fiona knew.

And yet, she came to spend time with you at Christmas. Liz sounded thoughtful.

Yeah. There it was, the miracle.

This stare from his sister was almost fierce. Do you love her?

He surprised himself with a hoarse laugh. Why else am I telling you about her?

Because you cant resist my persuasive powers? She gave him an evil grin. Okay, okay. You love her. Youve blown it with her. Whats the next step?

No next step.

Because youre chicken?

She was taunting him, wanting a rise. She struck out. Bleakly he said, Yes.

Oh, John. Abruptly she stood and came to him, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug. Oh, John.

He turned to her and held on tight, embarrassed by the fact that his face was wet. What do I do, Lizzie?

She told him.

He didnt like it, but the future lay before him, stark and hopeless if he refusedas any future without Fiona would be. And Liz was right in making him admit he was afraid. If he were any kind of man at all, Tabithas e-mail would have made him determined to fight for the woman he loved.

Maybe, he mumbled. Let me think about it.

His sister tilted back her head to scowl at him.

Okay. Yeah. He squeezed his eyes shut on a wave of vertigo. When that didnt help, he opened them again. If you mean it

I mean it.

Then you win, he finally conceded.

She smiled, her face soft. No, brother mine, you do.

I
NCREDIBLY
his sister had offered to take over the lodge for up to two weeks. Shed taken her vacation with that intention. Yes, she assured him, she had actually brought athletic shoes, jeans and sweatshirts. No, she wouldnt split wood, but she was fully capable of hauling it in, doing laundry and cooking for a dozen, three times a day.

My dream job? Nope. But thats what I came here to do.

Wait a minute. Youre lying. You dont have room in that bag for enough clothes

My suitcase is in the trunk of the car. If you said no, I wasnt going to bother hauling it in.

Now, having been assured he wasnt needed, John was on his way down the mountain, his own bags in the back of his SUV. He had the key to Lizs condo so that he could stay there, but shed admitted to telling their parents about how she planned to force him into action. He knew damn well his mother would be hoping hed choose to stay with them instead, sleeping in his childhood bedroom.

And he had an appointment for Monday morning at 10:00 a.m.scheduled by his sisterto see a counselor who specialized in posttraumatic stress.

Hes a Vietnam War vet, Liz told him. He has a prosthetic leg.

In other words, John was left with no valid excuse. His guests were being taken care of. He could stay in solitude at his sisters place if he wanted. And, yeah, maybe the counselor
would
understand everything. But what about the guilt? Could anybody understand that?

Johns unease grew as the trees thinned and then opened into the rolling, fertile Willamette River valley,
logged and farmed in the nineteenth century by early settlers. Agriculture had long since lost its way to the growing population, pushing suburb by suburb out of Portland.