The Snow Falcon (46 page)

She could feel and hear the rush of blood in her ears and the quickening sound of his breathing, in time with her heart. They kissed slowly, then more hungrily, their mouths devouring each other

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while their hands explored. She parted her thighs and wrapped them around his back, and he held himself on one elbow and slipped his free hand across her buttocks and between her legs. She reached down for him and they rubbed and caressed each other, fingers and wetness and hard flesh becoming entwined and confused.

She wanted him inside her, his weight on her, to hold the intensity of the moment. It was physical and emotional. She rolled across him and took him in her mouth and felt him shiver. Then he turned her over onto her back, holding her thighs apart as he lay down to kiss and taste her. She made a sound and shuddered, her hands gripping his hair, the taste of him still swarming in her mind. Pulling him urgently, she sought his mouth with her own as he slipped inside her, molding them together. They moved smoothly, without haste, his weight bearing down and through her, and his mouth sought the nape of her neck, her breasts, and as they rocked in each other’s arms, each felt the other rise toward a climax.

They lay in the dark, their skin touching in places, breathing softly, their eyes closed, partly together, partly awash with memories. He kissed her again, and when she responded, he began to caress her, and this time when he was inside her, she kept him there for a long time. They moved slowly, then quickly, then rested, absorbed in each other’s heat until they could begin again. She felt tears and tasted their salty flavor, felt their wetness against her cheek, and she wasn’t sure from which of them they had come, or if from them both.

Eventually they slept, their arms around each other.

SOMETHING WOKE MICHAEL IN THE MORNing,

and he lay still for a moment, getting used

to everything, wondering what the sound had

been. He could see the sky through the window, pale ice

blue with the sun still low. He was lying on his side, and

he could feel Susan curled up against his back. When he rolled over,

she muttered something sleepily and draped her arm across his chest.

He thought he might have dreamed the feelings she had evoked in him. Being with her had felt both sexual and nurturing, and he understood why nature was always referred to in the female gender. He kissed her. The scent of her hair and her skin lay over him, and the smell of sex in the early morning. Her hand trailed across his belly, making him shiver, and she gripped him and mumbled something into his chest.

He heard it again, the sound that had woken him, a sharp crack against the roof and then a skittering noise. It repeated itself.

“What’s that?” Susan opened her eyes and propped herself on one elbow.

Michael went to the window. “It’s Jamie.”

He was standing outside, throwing stones onto the roof. When he saw Michael at the window, their eyes met for a moment, then he turned away sullenly and scuffed his feet in the snow.

“Oh God, I should have remembered.” Susan got up and began pulling on her clothes. “I better talk to him.”

Michael dressed, and while Susan went outside, he went to the

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kitchen to make coffee. He could see them out the window, Susan crouched down talking to Jamie, holding his shoulders. He was avoiding her eye, refusing to respond. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and paused, frowning with consternation. Standing up, she put one hand on his shoulder. Looking toward the house, she saw Michael at the window and shrugged hopelessly.

They drank their coffee while Jamie hung around outside, refusing to come in.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be all right,” he assured her.

She managed to smile, but there was something like doubt in her eye. Or maybe it was simply uncertainty. They hadn’t talked about what they would do; all she knew was that he was leaving. He held her hand and squeezed.

“I love you,” he told her. He held her eye, wanting her to know how certain he was. She didn’t say anything for a moment, looking deeply and searchingly, then she nodded slowly and smiled.

“And I you.”

He finished his coffee. “I want to release Cully this morning. I’ll take Jamie with me, and when we get back, we’ll decide what happens next.”

“Okay.”

He went to Cully and she greeted him by bobbing her head, her feathers ruffled with contentment. He offered her a piece of meat, which she took with less enthusiasm than normal. He had half a rabbit carcass in his bag that he he was going to give her later, before he let her go, and the night before, he’d fed her twice her normal ration. He was confident that she wouldn’t need to kill her own food for a few days, which would give her a comfortable margin to get used to being free and having to hunt again.

Outside, Jamie was waiting in the Nissan, and Susan stood at the door. Michael put Cully on her perch in the back. “We’ll be a couple of hours,” he said.

“Good luck,” Susan said.

As they left, Michael returned her wave, but Jamie ignored her, resolutely staring out the window.

As they drove through the forest, following the winding road up through cold dark canyons of trees, Jamie wouldn’t look at him. He was turned away, hunched in on himself, and Michael didn’t know what to say. He could almost feel the things going on in the boy’s

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mind. It would be a whirlpool of confusion and hurt. The silence hung heavily over them until they came out from the trees and, shortly afterward, pulled over.

“Wait, Jamie,” Michael said as the boy started to get out. He didn’t want it to be like this when they let Cully go. “Listen, I think I know how you feel about this. You think I’m taking your dad’s place, right?” He tried to put himself in Jamie’s position, to understand what was really going on in his mind. He wondered what had really happened to make Jamie shut down the way he had, to decide he wasn’t going to speak anymore, to resent anyone that tried to get close to his mother. He saw the boy and could picture the man, knowing firsthand how things that get locked in tight for too long become twisted. Was Jamie going to end up full of confusion and hate? Would he turn it outward someday, maybe against his mother, or turn it against himself in destructive self-loathing that would destroy his life? It was all too possible.

Michael put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder, and when the boy tried to shrug it off, he kept it there. “I want you to listen to me, Jamie. You can’t go on like this forever. I think you’re trying to keep things just the way they were, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t speak, that’s why you don’t want your mother seeing anybody else, am I right?” Jamie stiffened and then reached for the door handle to get out, but Michael leaned past him and held the door to.

“Just listen. Just give me a minute, okay? You want to help me let Cully go, don’t you? Come on, just a minute.”

For a moment they didn’t move, Jamie still tense with his hand on the door, then slowly he let go. He turned and stared out the windshield, still refusing to look at Michael, who thought that was the best he was going to get. Now that he had Jamie’s attention, he was unsure what to say.

“Look, Jamie, I don’t know what happened the day your dad died, but my guess is you loved him a lot, and you miss him. You should hang on to that feeling. If you carry on like this, not thinking about him, you know what’s going to happen? You’re going to start to forget what he was like. I know what I’m talking about. For a long time, I shut my dad out of my mind—for different reasons, maybe, but I shut him out all the same. And you know what? It was the worst thing I could have done. It cost me a lot of pain, and it cost people I loved a lot of pain, too. That’s why I came back here, to this town,

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so I could remember my dad again. I found out a lot of things I’d forgotten, a lot of things that would have been a comfort to me when I was younger, if I’d remembered. Don’t do the same thing I did, Jamie. Don’t shut it all in, not remembering what your dad was really like. Whatever happened that day, you have to face it, and you have to face up to the fact that your dad is gone. It’s the only way you’re going to be able to feel him again.”

Michael knew that Jamie was listening; he just didn’t know how much of what he was saying was getting through. He didn’t know either if what he was saying made any sense. Glancing toward the rearview mirror, he saw Cully in the back of the Nissan, standing square-footed, strong and sleek, her eye fixed on the mountains outside.

“Jamie, look at Cully. You remember the day she stooped the first time, when I was so worried about her wing giving out? She must have felt the injury then, it must have hurt her to do what she did, but she never faltered.” Jamie looked at him slowly, his brow furrowed, then he turned a little in his seat and looked back at Cully. “What I’m saying is that we have to be like her. Don’t you want that? Look at her, she’s not afraid of anything.”

He could think of no other wisdom to offer. He got out and went around to Jamie’s door and opened it. “Come on. Let’s send her back where she belongs. Up there.” He swept an arm, indicating the sky, and when Jamie got out, Michael put his hand on the boy’s shoulder again and squeezed it briefly.

RACHEL WOKE EARLY, as the sky was beginning to lighten. She was in bed, exactly where she’d cried herself to sleep, curled up with the blankets pulled around her. Pete had gone in the night. She’d heard him go down the stairs after he’d got up from her, and then she’d heard the sound of his truck backing down the drive with its wheels spinning.

She rose and went into the bathroom. She looked a mess. Her eyes were red, her mouth was bruised where he’d hit her, and when she brushed her teeth, her gums were tender. She felt her teeth gingerly, hoping he hadn’t knocked any loose, then took a shower. The hot water made her feel a hundred times better. She let the stinging jets scald her skin, scrubbing herself hard and washing her hair vigorously

enough to make her scalp ache. Afterward she dressed, put on some makeup, and went downstairs to make some coffee and think.

Despite everything, she was worried about Pete. It amazed her that she could still feel that way, but there was a part of her that couldn’t just abandon him. She didn’t love him anymore—whatever had been left of that had finally died—but neither did she hate him. She pitied him and knew that he wasn’t bad but weak, and he was still the father of her kids. She was afraid of what would happen when he realized what he’d done, afraid he might not be able to live with himself.

She picked up the phone and dialed the yard, and the phone rang endlessly. It didn’t mean he wasn’t there; he could be passed out in the office. She didn’t know what he might have done after he’d left the house; he might have had some booze in the truck or gone to some bar to drink himself into a stupor. Or he might just be letting the phone ring because he’d know it was her. She wanted to think that was so, but she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Across the miles of wire she could sense he wasn’t there, and in her mind’s eye she saw the untidy little office with its cheap desk and dirty windows, and it was cold and empty.

She hung up and tried to think where he might have gone. She tried Red Parker’s place and let the phone ring and ring until he answered, his voice grouchy at being woken so early.

“Yeah?”

“Is Pete there, Red? This is Rachel.”

There was a pause. Either he was getting his scrambled thoughts together or considering what he ought to tell her, she couldn’t tell which.

“He’s not here.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Not since last night.”

She had a feeling Parker was holding something back. “Listen, this is important. I’m really worried about him,” she said.

He must have picked up something from her tone that made him think, because he hesitated for a good long while.

“Please. If he’s there, just tell me. I just need to know he’s okay.”

“He was here, but he ain’t now,” Parker said. “Turned up late last night, after he’d been home. He was talking crazy stuff, I don’t know—rambling, I guess. Anyway, he stayed on the couch, but I

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don’t know where he is now ‘cause I’m looking at the couch and he ain’t on it.”

It crossed her mind to wonder what Pete had told Parker, whom she didn’t like. It made her skin creep a little to think that he might know what had happened.

“Can you see if his truck’s still there?” she said.

Parker went away and eventually came back on the line. “It’s gone.”

“Have you got any idea where he might be now? Did he say anything?”

“I don’t remember that well.”

She sensed he knew something, and this bothered her. If he knew where Pete was, why didn’t he just tell her? She calmed herself, trying to make herself think clearly.

“Listen, you have to tell me. I think Pete’s a little strained at the moment. I think he needs help. I’m scared he might do something.”

Parker was quiet. She thought he had to be considering what she’d said, deciding where his loyalties lay.

“Listen,” she said. “Where were you last night? Before Pete came home.”

“Out at the Forester,” Parker said.

She knew the place, a tavern along Maple Road she never went near because it was kind of rough.

“Did something happen there? Did something happen to Pete?”

She was thinking about her clothes and the wrecked bedroom. Pete had trashed her things and then gone out drinking. She wondered why he hadn’t stayed out all night, or at least until the tavern had closed. She thought something else must have happened.