Steady as the Snow Falls (13 page)

Her jacket vibrated and Beth pulled out the cell phone, breaking the stare. She didn’t recognize the number associated with the text message, but she knew who it was from. Harrison. He said she didn’t need to come over today.

A frown tugged at her mouth. Beth couldn’t remember if she’d given him her number, not that it mattered. He had it. Her brain was riddled with holes lately, making the simplest things hard to remember. Why didn’t he want her to come over? Disappointment, shocking in its amount, engulfed her body. Her hand dropped to her side.

“What’s wrong?”

Beth looked at Ozzy, saw the questions and suspicions in his eyes. “Nothing. I don’t have to go to work today. It’s an unexpected free day, that’s all.”

His gaze dropped to the phone. “Your boss sends you text messages? Isn’t that a little unorthodox?”

“They don’t like talking on the phone,” she quickly told him.

“I guess anyone who doesn’t want people to know who they are must be strange.” Ozzy talked in an agreeable tone, but Beth knew it was a ruse. A calculated gleam darkened his eyes to burnished gold. He was digging for information.

Refusing to comment, Beth gathered the empty plastic bags and shoved them under the sink, her back protesting the motion. Another thing she couldn’t recall was how much she’d told Ozzy about her job or boss, and she wasn’t going to say more and indirectly give away something of Harrison.

“I have stuff to do,” she said as she straightened, giving him a pointed look.

Ozzy looked at his boots and nodded. “Right. Me too. I guess I should get going.”

He strode to her, pulling her into his arms before she could move out of reach. Beth remained stiff, not allowing herself to sink into his embrace and their history. Ozzy smelled like snow and a warped love. Once she was happy with him, once he had her heart. Once. It was dangerous to think of moments that no longer were.

“Let me go,” she commanded quietly, careful not to move.

Ozzy kissed her forehead and caressed her hair, and her skin crawled at the wrongness of it. “I can’t. I can’t not have you in my life in some way, Beth.”

“Ozzy, please.”

He pulled away, pain adding grooves to his face, making it seem older and harder. “You’ve been part of my life since I was a kid. You’re part of me.”

“It’ll get easier,” she told him, trying to believe the words. Beth wanted him to forget about her, about what they used to have. Neither of them would truly be free until he did.

“It’s been months. It hasn’t gotten easier.”

“But you’re dating. I know you’ve had girlfriends. It’s hypocritical of you to act hurt at the thought of me being with someone else when you’re already there.” Beth stepped away, putting her back to him as she crossed the room.

She looked into the living room, her eyes landing on the laptop where it rested on the coffee table. Already she craved a connection to Harrison, even if it was through a computer. Words. She needed to write about him. Anticipation shot her through with energy, and Beth felt the hum in her veins. She wanted to forget all the ways her heart had bled for Ozzy, and she could do that with the magnetism of Harrison’s untold story.

Beth looked at Ozzy. “You’ve been with other women. Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

His eyes shifted down and away, the tightness of his jaw admitting he had. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“But it changed how I feel about you,” she told him, crossing her arms. “Too much has happened. We can’t go back. That’s wrong. It’s wrong to try to live in the past, Ozzy.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, crossing the room to her. “Don’t designate me to a part of your past, Beth. Please.”

She looked to the right of him, her gaze moving to him as she spoke. “If you need a night off from the bar sometime, let me know and I’ll cover it if I can. To make up for you filling in for me.”

His mouth contorted. “I don’t want your gratitude.”

Beth didn’t say anything.

Veils dropped over his eyes, and coldness descended. It chilled her blood, looking into Ozzy’s eyes and seeing nothing. A stranger looked back at her, and trepidation unfurled in her chest. She’d seen him angry before, but only once, had she seen him furious. Beth had hoped to never see that side of him again. Rejection did not sit well with Ozzy.

“It didn’t have to be this way.” Although his words had no inflection and seemed calmly spoken, Beth took them as they were meant to be—a warning.

Ozzy left through the front door, and as soon as the door closed, she was there to lock it. Beth took steadying breaths, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her stomach. She was overreacting. Nothing bad was going to happen. Ozzy was hurt, but he’d get over it. Eventually, he’d become serious about someone else, and Beth would no longer hold any interest for him.

She worried about the time until then, though, a sense of foreboding beating along with her heart.

SIX

AFTER STARING AT the computer screen for over an hour and producing a total of thirteen words, Beth decided it was time for a change of scenery. She had plenty of notes and thoughts, but she wasn’t sure how to put them all together. The story wasn’t close to being ready to be written, not even the first page. Beth needed more of Harrison, and that wasn’t happening today. Part of her worried that he was sick and that that was why he’d told her not to come, but Beth told herself it wasn’t any of her concern.

Telling herself that didn’t make her worry any less. How could she care about him so quickly, so completely?

“Feelings cannot be decided by time,” she told herself with a single nod, and then raced for pen and paper to jot it down before she forgot it. Somewhere, sometime, those words would be needed.

Bundling up in layers of clothes and stuffing herself into her winter outerwear, Beth left the warmth of her home to trek through the snow and cold. She felt disoriented from switching from Harrison’s reality to her own. Hers seemed trivial in comparison. What did she have to worry about? Bills and an obsessed ex-boyfriend.

Darkness hovered around Harrison, murky and impenetrable.

Beth looked up at the fiery sun, wanting to break through Harrison’s darkness. Like the sun. She smiled and took a right at the end of her driveway, heading toward her parents’ home. Harrison would resent her trying. He would tell her that wasn’t why he’d hired her. Beth shrugged to herself. She was beginning to wonder why he’d hired her at all. His reasoning didn’t strike her as being entirely truthful. Her brain was full of unanswered questions, and it weighed on her.

She quickened her pace as she passed Ozzy’s brother’s house, knowing someone inside probably had their eyes on the window and were watching her. Beth contemplated flipping them off, but refrained. She swore Ozzy went there as often as he did with the hopes of catching her in one of her many walks. Too many coincidental interactions with her ex made Beth think they were premeditated.

Her steps lightened as she turned down another street and the house disappeared from view. Harrison’s intense eyes flashed through her head, and Beth stumbled as her pulse went into hiatus. The way he’d looked at her last night, the words he’d spoken. The heat, the tension. It made her stomach swirl and her hands shake. Harrison might be surrounded by obscurity, but there was passion in him as well. She was crazy to let herself think of him in any capacity other than as her employer.

Beth closed her eyes and took a calming breath before focusing on the houses around her. A lot of them were small to medium in size, some rundown and in need of repair, but there were a few that boasted of their owner’s wealth. Splashes of color peeked out from beneath white, and as she watched, a chunk of snow slid off a roof to crash to the ground below. It moved like a frozen wave and sounded like thunder.

Houses were odd. People built them, lived in them for a while, and then they sold them. Another family moved in, moved out. Houses were recycled. Redecorated. Remodeled. Made into homes and then abandoned for another. It always struck her as strange that a home of one family could turn into a home for another. Their lives were imprinted in the walls, layers and layers of hopes and dreams and fears. Loss and love.

It was interesting how barren the town seemed in the winter, especially on the colder days. The houses appeared deserted, as did the cars parked in driveways and along the streets. People didn’t go outside unless it was necessary—except for Beth, who was asking to get sick. The heat of the sun helped to keep her somewhat unfrozen, but as she finished the two-mile walk, Beth’s cheeks and ears ached.

The Lambert house was white with black shutters and shingles. In the warmer months, yellow and red flowers bloomed in rock-edged beds while more were set out in pots. Beth had grown up helping her mom with her flowers and gardens in the spring and summer, a task she used to grumble about, but one she appreciated more as she got older. Being kept busy was a good thing, and having tasks and chores taught values not otherwise known. Of course, being responsible and practical never could dampen Beth’s imagination.

She always wanted to tell stories; do things that could be retold as great stories.

Beth’s eyes found the leafless tree she used to climb with Ozzy and then jump from, much to her mom’s consternation. Beth was a princess, trying to save her prince. Or an explorer searching for lost treasure. Jane looking for Tarzan. She never realized it then, but she was usually saving Ozzy, even as they played.

Her mom would chase them around the yard until they ran off and found something else to do, telling Beth she didn’t need her daughter to break any bones when she had two boys who did it often enough as kids.

It was a poignant memory—spun in sorrow and joy. Ozzy was a sweet boy, but as the years went, he changed. Gradually, but irrefutably. One day Beth looked at him and didn’t know him anymore. She mourned that little boy. The hint of a smile dropped from her face, and she inhaled deeply, wondering how the man in her house earlier that morning could be the boy she grew up with.

“Beth!” Her mom waved from the open door. “What are you doing standing out in this cold?”

“Hi, Mom.” She waved back and approached the house. “Just remembering things.”

“You can remember them inside, where it’s warmer.”

Sandy Lambert had blonde hair a shade darker than her daughter’s. She kept hers short, saying she didn’t want to mess with it when she had more important things to do. Her frame, once muscular and fit, had softened with age. She was still a formidable force, someone Beth strived to be like. Dressed in ragged purple shorts, pink slippers, and a gray tee shirt, she should be cold, but appeared to be too hearty to give in to it.

The look she leveled at Beth as she passed was penetrating and mixed with a dab of concern. “How are things with you? You look tired.”

“Good. I got up early, that’s all,” she explained as her mom closed the front door after her. “I wasn’t sure if you had the day off or not.”

The living room, with its pale paneled walls and brown carpet, hadn’t changed much since she’d graduated from high school, a small detail she appreciated. Her dad’s brown recliner had been replaced with a dark blue one when the first one went kaput, and there were more recent family pictures on the walls, but otherwise, it looked much the same as it always had. No matter where life took her, inside the white house with the black shutters would always be her first home, and how she would base all future ones.

“I have the morning off, but we’re getting a shipment of tools in later this morning, and your dad will need help sorting through it all. You know how he is—gets frazzled over everything. I’m heading over to the hardware store after lunch. You hungry?”

Her mom marched from the room without waiting for a response. Beth’s parents had owned and run Lambert Hardware for the past thirty years. Her dad was always working on some project, and her mom was there with him, looking over his shoulder and rolling her eyes.

Beth removed her boots and coat, sweating now that she was no longer outside. It smelled like freshly baked bread in the house, a scent that grew as she stepped into the kitchen. The pale green room was small and cluttered, only a sliver of the refrigerator able to be seen under the photos and papers magnetized to it. Her mom liked to decorate with pigs, and there were little pink beings spread throughout the room.

She was handed a red bowl and a plate with an oversized slice of homemade bread with melting butter. Beth took them and sat at the square table in the center of the room, setting down the bowl before it further burned her fingers. “Thank you.”

“How’s the writing coming along? And the new project?”

Beth shifted in her seat, keeping her eyes down. “Slow, but okay. I haven’t written much. It’s only been a few days,” she added.

Her mom didn’t reply, stirring the soup around with her spoon.

“What’s new with you?” she asked her mom, not keen on small talk but feeling anxious at the thought of silence.

“Benny and Jake are coming home Wednesday with their families and are staying for a few days. You’ll be here for Thanksgiving next week?” It was asked like a question, but it wasn’t. It was a confirmation of something already labeled as fact.

She dipped her spoon in the homemade tomato soup, blew on it before putting it in her mouth, and swallowed. Her mom believed in eating food personally made instead of in a factory as much as was feasible. The tomatoes used in the soup were from her garden. The soup was hot and filling, a blend of spices giving zip to the tomato base.

Benny and Jake were her older brothers, both smart enough to move from Crystal Lake as soon as they were able. Benny lived in Wisconsin and worked as a computer specialist, fixing problems that may arise with programming software. He was married with one daughter. Jake was the middle child, recently married with a baby on the way, and lived in a city three hours away. He was the manager of a sporting goods store.

“I miss Benny and Jake, and I haven’t seen Benny in months. I will definitely be here. Where else would I be?” Harrison. She instinctively knew he would try to spend the holiday alone, like it was an ordinary day. Her stomach dipped, and she swallowed.

“Amanda Hensley stopped in at the store yesterday and said you and Ozzy had been spotted together at The Lucky Coin. I thought maybe it meant a reconciliation was in the works, and if so, you might be at his Thanksgiving instead of ours.”

“So what if we were seen together there? We both work there. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Her mom tore off a chunk of bread and popped it in her mouth. “It was implied you were on a date.”

Beth’s face went hot, and she let the spoon drop from her hand. It made a small splash as it hit the soup. “We weren’t on a date. He asked me to get a drink with him. Anyway, it was a mistake.” She clenched her hands into fists. “This town needs to find better ways to spend their time than talking about the people in it.”

“They do,” her mom agreed. “But do you think they will?”

Beth thought of Harrison. She thought of what it would be like if the town found out about him. The talk that would follow, the judgment. How would he react to that? Not well, she was thinking. Beth’s nails dug into her palms and she glared down at the bowl of soup.

“Beth? What is it? You’re not getting back together with Ozzy, are you?” She tried to keep her tone even, but it wavered with an underlying layer of apprehension.

She looked up, shaking her head as she met her mom’s blue eyes. “No. We’re done. For good.”

“Oh, thank God.” Her mom placed a hand on her heart and closed her eyes.

A frown tugged at her mouth. “Really? I’m surprised. You love Ozzy.”

“I do love Ozzy.” She resumed eating her bread and soup. “But he isn’t good for you. He never was. He’s too needy. He held down your wings. You need to fly.”

Stunned, she could only blink at her mother.

“You’re my little bird. I want what’s best for you, always.” She smiled, reaching across the table to pat Beth’s hand. Her hand was roughened by years of manual labor, but it felt like being reacquainted with one of the best pieces of her childhood to Beth. “You know that.”

Beth inhaled, held it, released it. “You never told me you thought that way about me and Ozzy.”

“Of course not. You had to find out on your own that he wasn’t right for you. But I’m glad you see things for how they are. Ozzy is a dreamer who only dreams, and you’re a dreamer who goes after your dreams.” She squeezed her hand. “I just want you to be happy, Beth.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Beth said in a faint voice.

Minutes passed before she spoke again, and when she did, it was with the voice of a child needing comfort from their mother. “Sometimes he scares me.”

Their eyes clashed, her mom’s sharp on her face. “Who, Ozzy?”

Beth looked down, nodding as she lifted her gaze.

Her features turned to granite. “Stay away from him. If he scares you, stay away from him.”

“I’m trying.”

“Don’t try, do it.”

Beth swallowed, her throat closing around the ferocity of her mom’s tone. She examined her mom, saw the spark of a protective parent burning through her eyes and straightening her spine. She knew her mom would not be gentle with Ozzy if she found out he’d harmed Beth.

“I’ll say something to Dan and Deb, tell them to make sure he leaves you alone. I’ll say something to Ozzy too. What’s he done?”

“Nothing, really. He just…makes me nervous. Says things he shouldn’t, shows up where I don’t want him to. All the time. It’s okay, Mom. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Beth shifted on the chair and turned her eyes to her food.

Now that she’d voiced her concerns and seen her mother’s reaction, Beth felt like she was overreacting. She felt like she was betraying him by speaking of him that way. It was Ozzy. He may be unstable at times, but at the center of him, there was goodness. He made mistakes, but it wasn’t like he didn’t feel bad about them. Beth’s faith rang hollow.

She pointed her spoon in Beth’s direction. “I better not hear about him harassing you, because if I do, me, your dad, and your two brothers
will
be having a talk with him.”