Snowbound (6 page)

You sound like a sergeant. His tone was gentle and almost, well,
affectionate.
As if he were teasing her.

Did you have to peel potatoes when you were in the Guard?

Oh, yeah. He shrugged. Came in handy, though. Taught me how to cook for big groups.

Fiona nodded. Well, Ill let you get back to your book.

He didnt reach for it. Why dont you get yourself a cup of coffee and sit down? Unless youre playing Monopoly, too.

Chinese checkers I could have been talked into. But not Monopoly. It tends to go on forever. When I was, oh, ten or eleven, a couple of friends and I used to start
games that went on for weeks. Wed play after school. We got truly vicious.

He was definitely smiling now, although it was more a matter of that hard mouth softening than actually curling up at the corners. Now that I cant imagine.

Really. She got a mug down from the cupboard. We had ever shifting alliances trying to put each other out of the hotel business. Half the time, one of us would go home mad.

Yet you didnt grow up to be a real estate tycoon.

Pouring herself coffee, Fiona laughed. I invariably lost in the end. One of my friends was more ruthless.

And shes now a real estate tycoon.

Something like that. She splashed milk in the coffee, then returned the carton to the refrigerator. Carol is a mid-level executive with some division of Procter & Gamble.

Behind her, Johns grunt might have been a laugh. And did you let your friends visit your Monopoly properties free when they were too broke to pay the rent?

I told you, Fiona said with dignity, as she set down her mug on the table and pulled up a chair, I was way tougher than that. Im no pushover.

Arent you. It wasnt a question, although his brown eyes studied her thoughtfully.

I have a reputation as a tough teacher, Ill have you know. Ive heard kids telling freshmen that Ms. MacPherson is nice, but you really have to work in her classes.

The ultimate compliment.

I thought so.

Why teaching?

Something in the way he still scrutinized her made Fiona feel like a lab rat exhibiting puzzling behavior. She sensed that he really wanted to know.

Because I loved school, she said simply. I had a bunch of teachers along the way who really inspired me. I remember one day when I was in high school, I looked around the classroom and thought, Why would anyone want to be anywhere else?

You loved the smell of chalk?

Youre making fun of me. But actually, I did. I do. My elementary school was ancient. Dry erase boards just arent the same. She brooded. Really, its the atmosphere in a classroom I like. The quiet when everyone is fiercely concentrating

Trying desperately to remember stuff they
meant
to study the night before, he murmured.

Fiona ignored him. The complete engagement in the topic when a debate gets passionate. The look on a students face when he or she gets somethingreally gets itfor the first time. Come on, she challenged him. You must have liked school, too, or you wouldnt have stayed in it so long.

Again, the smile touched mainly his eyes. You wouldnt believe me if I told you I stuck it out so I could make lots and lots of money?

No, I wouldnt.

Okay. I did like school. Most of the time. But Im not a teacher.

You found something else that excited you. She pretended not to see the flash of some intense emotion
that he quickly hid. Me, I just like to get other people excited about an intellectual idea.

You didnt say what you teach.

U.S. History and Government.

Ahh. He took a sip of coffee.

She eyed him with suspicion. Whats that supposed to mean?

I said ah. I acknowledged your answer.

No, you didnt. You said,
Ahh.
She imbued the sound with a thousand shades of meaning.

Okay. He set his coffee cup down. I was thinking that I could see you getting fired up about justice and the wisdom of our founding fathers and the balance of powers.

You sound so cynical, she said, surprised. Is that because of Iraq?

He looked back at her without expression. Iraq? Whats that have to do with anything?

Dont
do
that, Fiona exclaimed in exasperation.

His dark brows rose in what was becoming a typical response. Do what?

Go blank. Do you do that when you dont want to think about something?

Shed actually caught him off guard. He looked startled and perhaps perturbed. I dont know.

I wasnt trying to get you to talk about Iraq. I mean, not your experiences. I meant more in a political sense. All the debate about Bushs motives and whether the administration was honest

I thought all Americans got cynical after Watergate.

She flapped a hand. Watergate wasnt any worse
than the scandals during Ulysses Grants administration. We Americans are ultimately hopeful.

Are we.

You wouldnt have joined the National Guard if you hadnt thought you could make a difference.

Maybe I just wanted the extra pay.

Did you?

In the face of her challenge, he shook his head. Our decisions are rarely that simple, are they?

No, they arent.

Coming into the kitchen right then, Dieter asked, What decisions? Do we have to start, like, rationing food or something?

Fiona laughed. Weve been here less than twenty-four hours. I presume we havent yet eaten Mr. Fallon out of house and home.

Cuz Im hungry, the lanky sixteen-year-old confessed. Whats for dinner?

Fiona glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. The dinner we wont be having for at least a couple of hours?

He grinned unrepentently at her. Yeah. That one.

Spaghetti, John said.

Really? Cool! Um he looked around can I have an apple or something?

John gestured toward the counter. Help yourself.

The boy grabbed one from the bowl that sat there. So what are you talking about?

I was telling him why I became a teacher.

He took a bit crunch of apple. Around it, he said, Yeah? How come you did?

Because she liked the smell of chalk, John supplied.

Really? Dieter looked from one of them to the other. Youre kidding. Arent you?

I became a teacher because I like to inspire young minds.

He hooted. Right!

Fiona only laughed. So, whos winning out there?

Me. He flexed a skinny arm and near nonexistent bicep. I have ten hotels.

And Amy?

She quit and stomped upstairs.

Oh, dear. Fiona started to rise.

Johns hand on her arm stopped her. Shell get over it.

She hesitated, then sank back down. I know she will. I just think its important that we all get along, stuck together the way we are.

Dieter finished a bite. Amys always mad at somebody.

Fiona had noticed that the girl didnt take being teased very well. Later, shed try talking to her. Maybe shed open up the way Willow had.

You may spread the word, she said, that youre all off the hook for preparing dinner. She held up a hand. On the other hand, I think weve worked our way around to you, Troy and Hopper for cleanup.

He groaned melodramatically.

Come on, how long did it take you to wash the dishes after breakfast? Twenty minutes?

Yeah, but spaghettis lots worse than scrambled eggs. Taking his apple, he retreated.

Fiona decided it was high time to do the same. She
took a last swallow of coffee and stood to take her cup to the sink. I, she announced, am going to find a book to read. In my room. I might even take a nap.

John Fallons mouth relaxed into another of those near-smiles. Good for you.

But dont start cooking without me, okay? I feel guilty enough at the work weve put you to.

If necessary, Ill wake you up before I start dinner, he agreed.

Okay. She started across the kitchen. Dont let the kids bug you for anything.

Ill send them to bug you instead.

She gave him a last look, said, Do that, and pushed through the swinging door. She felt as if shed just made a near-escape even as she wished shed stayed to talk. Maybe to ask him what
his
dreams as a child had been.

No, he was undoubtedly relieved to have a couple of hours to himself.

Althoughhe
had
invited her to sit down with him in the first place.

J
OHN COULDNT REMEMBER
enjoying a day more since before hed gone overseas. He was hungry to learn more about Fiona, and regretted it every time she walked away to deal with the kids.

He couldnt figure out why he didnt feel disdain and even contempt for someone who struck him as remarkably naive. These days, most teenagers like her charges had long since shed their innocence. Yet somehow shed held on to a basically sunny faith that other people had good intentions.

What would someone like her make of Iraq now, he found himself wondering, with its confusion of loyalties and ancient hatreds and modern, militant Islamic fanatics? How would she deal with the sight of a recently beheaded hostage, a man whod come over with no interest in war or politics, intending only to work in the oilfields and make the extra money that would get his family out of debt?

John found, to his surprise, that he didnt want to know how shed react. He thanked God shed never seen anything so horrific, and hoped she never would. There was a place for her kind of optimism in the world, even
if he couldnt share it. Her happy little glow was occasionally contagious, and how could that be a bad thing?

He hoped he would have to wake her from her nap. Of course, if she didnt wander downstairs herself, he should send one of the girls, but John persuaded himself that she wouldnt want one of her students to see her so vulnerable. What if she snored? Drooled? Talked in her sleep? Within a day of getting back to Hawes Ferry, every kid in her high school would know. Shed be at the front of the class lecturing, and hear a soft snore from the back of the room followed by an eruption of giggles. Hed be doing her a favor, waking her up himself.

He watched the clock, which moved with infuriating slowness. The moment it reached four-thirty, he rose to his feet. Half the kids still lounged downstairs, while four of them had disappeared. Their teacher would undoubtedly have worried, but John didnt care what they were doing off by themselves.

In the hall above, giggles came through the closed door to one of the girls rooms, followed by the deeper rumble of a boys voice. Dieter was still downstairs; Hopper or Troy, then.

Fionas door was shut as well. John knocked lightly. When there was no response, he opened it, then cleared his throat.

The dark head on the pillow didnt move.

Leaving the door slightly ajar, he crossed the room.

Still dressed, shed stretched out on top of the down comforter, then pulled half of it over her. She apparently didnt snore and wasnt drooling, but neither did she stir even when he cleared his throat again, more loudly.

Fiona.

She slept on, lips parted, her expression serene. Clearly she wasnt fighting bad dreams.

He reached out, wanting to push back the curls that had fallen over her face. His fingers tingled from the need to feel their springy texture and the plump satin of her cheeks. But he didnt want her to catch him in the act, so reluctantly he shook her shoulder instead.

Fiona.

She mumbled something and buried her face in the pillow.

Perhaps he should just go start dinner himself. He wasnt used to help and didnt really need it. Spaghetti was one of his standbys. He had made it weekly for the past year.

Maybe shed only fallen asleep a short while ago. A trade paperback book lay open beside her, facedown. It looked as if shed gotten a fair way into it, so she must have read for quite a while. Curious, he tilted his head so he could see what shed chosen to read.

Generation Kill: Devil Dogs, Iceman, Captain America, and the New Face of American War.

John stiffened at the sight of the faceless soldier dressed in desert camouflage depicted on the cover. He hadnt known the book was on the shelf. He hadnt read it, didnt want to.

Why had she spent her afternoon immersed in the Iraq war? Was she trying to answer questions she hadnt felt she could ask him? Or did her curiosity have nothing to do with him?

A kind of panic flooded him. What had she read in
the book? Did it talk about the price soldiers like him had paid for killing? About the callousness that so easily encased them? Had she read about the way terror made your skin crawl and your bowels loosen, how you had to quit thinking about home, about people you loved, or you got even more scared that you were going to die?

He started to back up. He suddenly didnt want her eyes to open, for her to gaze searchingly at him and see too much.

The foot he couldnt help dragging caught on something and in trying to right himself he put too much weight on that leg. His hip spasmed and he grabbed for the edge of the dresser. The mirror rattled against the wall.

John? she said softly, sleepily. Oh! Are you all right?

The agony retreated. He unclenched his jaw. Im fine.

Youre not.

He turned. Im fine!

Half sitting up, she shrank back from his anger. Im sorry.

This was why he stayed away from people. One of the reasons he stayed away.

Theres no reason for you to be sorry. He tested some weight on the leg, which held. I was a jackass. He hesitated. I get spasms.

Hair tousled, she eyed him warily. I can tell it hurts.

Ithappens less often than it used to. Regular exercise helps.

She was relaxing. Like chopping wood and hauling it in?

Not what the physical therapist had in mind, butyeah.

He allowed himself to relax, too. Despite the way shed flinched when he snapped at her, she wasnt looking at him as if she saw a monster.

Did you come to wake me?

He dipped his head. I did knock.

Fiona made a face. I should have warned you. I sleep like the dead.

Not like the dead. He knew what dead people looked like.

She saw his face, and her expression shifted subtly as she remembered what shed been reading. He could tell; her gaze slid from him to the book beside her. Im sorry, she said again.

Quit that, he said harshly.

Still sitting up in bed, the comforter across her lap, she stared at him with those startlingly clear eyes. Quit what?

Apologizing. John swallowed, softened his voice. You didnt say or do anything to apologize for.

I wasnt apologizing. She swung her legs over so that they dangled off the bed. I was expressing sympathy.

Because I limp? Because Im scarred?

Her eyes flashed. Because I could tell you were remembering something bad. Why would you assume the worst of me?

How did he say,
Because Im so damned mired in self-pity, I assume thats what people feel when they look at me? He couldnt. Didnt want to.

My turn to apologize. He sounded stiff.

She gave him a soft smile. Dont worry about it. Making a sound of pleasure, she yawned and stretched luxuriantly. The knit fabric of her turtleneck pulled taut over her small breasts. I may have to start napping every day.

God.
Her voice alone, lazy and satisfied, was enough to arouse him.

I shouldnt have woken you.

I made you promise. Her eyes widened. Unless youre waking me because one of the kids needs me?

Nope. Just thought Id start dinner.

She pressed a hand to her chest. Thank goodness. I scared myself for a second there.

Theyre big kids.

And my responsibility. Her forehead puckered. Maybe I should try calling my principal again.

Did you remember to turn your phone off?

Oh, crap! She scrambled off the bed. I dont know! And I dont have a charger

The kids have phones. I have one.

She swung to face him. You said you didnt.

I said I didnt have a landline. I have a cell phone. It just doesnt work up here most of the time.

Groping in the purse that sat on the chest of drawers, she came up with her phone. Thank goodness, I did turn it off. She dropped it back in the purse. Ill try later, once we get dinner on.

He nodded, retreating. Ill see you downstairs.

She yawned again and nodded. Just let me get my shoes on.

It took her a bit longer than that to appear in the kitchen; but hed known she would check on her kids on the way down.

He was setting out onions, garlic and green pepper on the counter when he heard the swinging door and glanced over his shoulder. Shed brushed her hair and pulled it into a ponytail that made her look as young as the teenagers.

Find them all? he asked.

Mmm-hmm, she murmured absently. Shall I chop?

Sure. Ill get the hamburger frying.

He dumped several pounds in his largest skillet.

Four onions? she asked, sounding surprised.

There are ten of us. Wouldnt hurt to have enough left for lunch tomorrow.

No. Thats true. Okay. The knife whacked down on the cutting board.

By the time she dumped the first diced onion in with the meat, her eyes were misty. With the second, tears clung to her lashes and her eyes were red. Im going to be wailing any minute, she warned.

Want to switch jobs?

No point in us both crying. Wed scare the kids if they come in.

He gave a laugh that felt creaky. Its good for teenagers to get jolted out of their self-absorption occasionally.

Whack. Whack. Whack.
Are you speaking from experience?

He saw more of himself in Dieter than in the others. He, too, had been a nerd despite the fact that hed played
high school sports and therefore achieved a degree of respectability.

Maybe. Did
you
ever think about anyone else when you were fifteen?

Her laugh was watery. Maybe more than most kids do. My family hadproblems.

The tiny hitch in her voice gave him an insight. Thats why you loved school so much.

I suppose so. It was my refuge.

He wanted to know what kind of problems made her want to hide out at school, but knew it wasnt any of his business.

Not that it was that terrible, she said hastily. It was just that my parents were fighting. They got a divorce my first year of college.

Did you wish theyd done it years earlier?

She dumped more onions in with the browning meat and shook her head. No. Although that would be logical, wouldnt it? But whos logical about things like that? I knew my father had been having affairs. Even when I hid in my room, I could hear their voices. And then I saw him one day. Midafternoon, coming out of a motel room with this woman who worked with him. He kissed her, then they got in their separate cars and drove away. It was like seeing a stranger. You know? She wasnt chopping anymore, and John turned to see her gazing into space as if she didnt remember where she was. The knife in her hand was suspended above the onion. It didnt seem unnatural that tears streamed down her cheeks. She continued after a moment, I didnt know whether I should tell my
mother. I was afraid shed see it on my face, so I bicycled over to a friends house and begged to spend the night. In the end, I never did tell Mom. I dont think she realized how much Id heard and knew. Fiona shook her head. And why am I telling you all this? All you asked was if I wanted them to get a divorce. And heres the thing. When they finally did separate, I was devastated. It was like the bottom had dropped out of my world. Home wasnt home anymore. It was supposed to stay the same forever. Which I suppose answers your question. I
was
self-absorbed. My parents existed to be my bedrock, not as people with their own needs and problems.

Thats normal. Leaning against the lip of the counter, he watched her finish chopping the last onion. Have either of them remarried?

She gave a laugh that revealed more unhappiness than he suspected she knew. Oh, my father has. Twice. He wasnt faithful with number two, either. And probably isnt with number three, which is a shame. Shelly is a nice woman. She seemed to shake herself. Mom hasnt. I think she might have a hard time trusting a man.

What about you? he heard himself ask. Do you, too?

She scraped the onions into the hamburger mix with the knife, then set the cutting board back on the counter. As if she hadnt heard him, she said, I need to go wash my face before I start the garlic.

John nodded toward the door to his quarters. You can use my bathroom if you want.

So I dont have to explain why Ive been sobbing
to assorted teenagers? Thanks. She disappeared into his small apartment, consisting of a sitting room, bedroom and bathroom.

He didnt have to worry about having left the bathroom tidy; between the military and his stint as innkeeper, keeping his space clean and clear of clutter had become automatic. Wondering how much she could tell about him from his living quarters did make him a little uneasy.

She came back with her face scrubbed, and her eyes still red and puffy. Ive never chopped so much onion before. I guess I somehow escaped that particular job when we had big family Thanksgiving get-togethers.

I appreciate you doing it.

She worked in silence, adding the garlic a minute later. John was pouring cans of tomato sauce hed already opened when Fiona said, What you asked about me trustingThe answer is I dont know. I guess it hasnt come up.

I shouldnt have asked.

Why not? I was telling you my life story.

He shrugged. All right. Doesnt trust always come up?

I havent actually had any relationships that were very serious. She scraped diced green pepper into the sauce. My mother worries. Shes convinced the divorce scarred me, that Im shying away from marriage. But I really dont think so. I keep telling her I havent met the right man. Which is just as well. I didnt want to get married at twenty-three, like my best friend did.

John dumped burgundy wine into the sauce with a free hand, then poured oregano into his palm and added it.

You didnt even have to measure? she asked, sounding indignant.

Practice. He stirred in thyme and basil and sniffed experimentally.

Shall I cut up the tomatoes? Fiona asked, waving her knife at the row of large cans.

We can both work on those.

She used a fork to set several tomatoes from the first can onto her cutting board. Then her head came up. It occurs to me that its been awfully quiet out there.