Warm Winter Love (11 page)

Sam’s fingers pressed into her back. “Ah, Katie,” he murmured in her ear, “this can’t be the end of us. We can’t be the characters in some ballad. We’re more than that.”

He was right, of course. “Tell me what to do, Sam,” she quietly cried out to him. “Tell me what to do.”

He shook his head. “I wish I could. I could tell you—I could ask you—to come away with me. But that wouldn’t be any good. You have to make up your own mind. You’re the one who has to decide.” He kissed the top of her head. “Because if I tell you, if you don’t do it on your own, then we don’t have a chance. You might resent me later on and I’d always wonder if you were happy.” He kissed her hair once more. “But know that I do love you.”

All around her she could hear the laughter, and the heartrending music flowed through the room, but it was as if it had all been filtered through a curtain, because the sounds were now dull, and only Sam’s unhappy voice remained clear. She shuddered and looked up at him. It seemed as though, suddenly, the music overpowered them, and the focus changed, and the curtain lifted so that now she clearly saw his mouth move, and she watched the way his lips were formed as they spoke unheard words of love to her. The way he held her close to him, almost as though they were one, told her more than any heard and spoken pledge ever could that he loved her.

Finally, through the haze of sound, she heard him say quietly, “Let’s get out of here.”

They walked along the path to Magic Mountain. They were both quiet, and when they heard a distant bell toll eleven times, she kicked weakly at the packed snow, knowing that the day, their last full day, was almost over.

“There’s nothing more I can say, Katie. I think—I’m sure that you’ve made up your mind.”

“Yes. I can’t help it, Sam. This is all so different, so new. With Jason…” She stopped and began again: “I’ve never felt quite like this before.”

“And you’re afraid of it, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “My life was so neat and orderly before you came along.”

“And that’s the way you want it, isn’t it?” He picked up a handful of snow and threw it at a tree, turning the dark bark a frosted white. “You know, it all used to be so simple for me too. I would fly from a city without thinking twice. There was nothing to hold me back. But now, every time I move on…”

He left the sentence unfinished, but she knew what he wanted to say. “I can’t ask you to change professions, Sam.”

“And I wouldn’t be happy changing.” There was his truthfulness again. He wouldn’t lie even to win her and that made her wince and love him even more.

They walked silently to the base of the mountain and paused there to observe the skiers at the top. They heard the distant bell strike again.

Sam took her hand and began to lead her back to the Crest. “It’s the witching hour, Katie,” he said, putting his arm around her.

She heard the last of the twelve rings and he held her apart from him for a moment before he kissed her with gentleness and passion. “Remember me, Katie-Katie. Remember me,” he said before letting her go.

She nodded and stood there, pain circling her heart and coursing through her body. “I will, Sam.”
How could I ever forget you?
she wanted to cry out, but she remained there mute. She wondered if he could tell that she was hurting inside, that she was wishing all sorts of crazy thoughts, wishing that he would just sweep her away and take her with him.
Convince me, Sam,
she kept crying silently.
Convince me that I shouldn’t pay attention to all the should do’s and must do’s in my life and, just for once, think with my heart. Tell me that I won’t make a mistake loving you. Convince me that I can go with you and l can put all those memories of only weekends with my father behind me. Persuade me that you need me as much as I need you.

Oh, yes, it was true. She loved him, but it seemed so impossible now.
Oh, Sam!
she thought.
I don’t know what to do. Help me, Sam, and if not, then, my love, convince me that I don’t love you . . . that I’ll forget you someday, and this will only be a dream for me to remember on long, cold winter nights.

Chapter Twelve

Sam was to leave early in the morning and Katie had told him that she would meet him before breakfast for one last time, but when they parted that last night she knew that she would never see him again. She had lied about their meeting once more.

“In the morning,” she had said, and then had taken one long, last look at him as he walked away from her. She remembered calling out his name, and how he had turned around, smiled, and thrown a kiss to her. He had repeated her words, “In the morning,” and she had bent her head in agreement. Afterward, as she closed the door to her room, she knew that it was the last time for them. It would be too painful to say good-bye in the morning in front of all those other people. This had been a better and easier way for both of them. There would be no tears for him to see or for her to feel. This was a private grief, and she didn’t want to share it with other vacationers in the dining room. No, this was the only way. No use in prolonging the pain. Better to get it over with as soon as possible.

Now she sat in the chair in her room, opposite the small alarm clock on the nightstand. Suddenly it was six and then seven and now nearly eight o’clock. She had been up since early morning. Actually, she hadn’t slept, and had only tossed on the bed, recalling and reliving the wonderful moments with Sam throughout the entire week.

It wasn’t easy to stay in her room. Her heart told her to go to him, knock on his door, tell him yes, she would go away with him. But her pragmatic side warned her that things could go wrong. She would have no security, and only a part-time husband. In the end, her practical side won, and she remained in her room, picking up and putting down the phone, walking to and from the door.

She could picture Jason in his science lab. Sometimes, on her free period, she would be in the next room, doing her class plans, and she would be able to hear his steady voice explaining the properties of a gas or warning about the effects of certain chemicals on the environment. She would be comforted then, knowing that they would be together. Jason was really a very good person.

But now thoughts of Sam kept getting into her mind. Sam laughing. Sam winding a music box. Sam throwing a snowball. Sam kissing her. When she closed her eyes, it was no use; Sam’s face appeared even in the dark recesses of her mind.
Think, think, think, Katie,
she told herself.
Think of Jason
.

She looked at the clock again. Sam had probably had breakfast, had probably realized that she wasn’t coming down. She looked at her cell phone. It was odd that he didn’t call her. No, it wasn’t odd at all. No doubt he knew that she wouldn’t be there for breakfast. He knew enough about her and her ways to surmise that that was what she had in mind. But it was curious that he didn’t at least try to contact her.

Nine o’clock. He would be getting ready to leave now—the van was to depart for the airport soon. He was taking a ten-o’clock flight to New York and then he’d be back to the routine of working two weeks overseas and then two in the United States. And everything would be back to the precise way it was long before they had ever met. He would go on with his life, making trips, working with computers, and she would be back in the classroom teaching English.

She walked to the window and looked out at the mountain. Funny, it was the same window she had looked out when she first arrived, in expectation of another wonderful time, another skiing vacation of relaxation and fun. Last week, when she stood here with those happy thoughts, she had had no premonition that someone would enter her life so quickly and change it so radically.

She looked down and saw the maroon guest van in front of the Crest, waiting for the passengers to board. She moved to the side of the window and watched, hoping for a glimpse of Sam. When, finally, he emerged from the Crest, he remained standing there with his luggage, and her heart seemed to leap from her breast. “Sam!” she cried involuntarily, and she was glad he couldn’t hear her.

She could see him clearly. He was wearing his black jacket and was hatless. He appeared unhappy and uncertain. He turned around and looked nervously over his shoulder toward the Crest several times. She knew that he was looking for her, searching the groups of people who appeared at the door to the lodge, waiting for her to come. And when the doors of the van opened and the passengers got in, he hesitated and was the last one to enter.

He turned once again at the door and looked up at her window. She stepped back quickly, afraid that he had seen her. But then he swung his luggage onto the rack on the top of the van, climbed inside, and even through her window she heard the muffled thud of the door closing. She saw him look one last time from the side window, and then she watched as the van slowly made its way past the Crest to the main road.

She took a shallow breath. It was finished. Their week was finally over now. There would never be another day of skiing with him… another meal to be enjoyed together… a time to laugh with each other. Looking down at the empty place where the van had been, she felt a gnawing pain invade her heart, and she clenched her hands. Was this the way it should have ended? Surely some sort of a phrase or even a gesture should have signaled the end. Romances just shouldn’t be allowed to die so quietly. She leaned her head onto the cold windowpane, and not knowing how to ritualize the end of a romance, she touched her fingers to her lips and threw a kiss after the van. “To what might have been, my Sam, my wonderful Sam,” she murmured.

She stood there until the last moment, following the journey of the van until it disappeared out of sight. She was surprised when she felt teardrops spill over onto her cheeks and then down her face and upon her lips. She hadn’t known she was crying.

She wiped at her eyes, but the tears didn’t stop. Finally she lay down on her bed and let the tears flow unrestricted. Sam was gone from her life, gone forever. One brief moment for tears was certainly allowed. This evening she would go home to Maryland and there would be no more tears for what might have been.

Chapter Thirteen

Irene stopped by after the first class. “I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I had a wonderful time last week. I did nothing but lie on the beach and just listen to the ocean. It was glorious.” She held out her arm to show Katie her tan. “No kids to ask questions, no X’s and Y’s to explain, and no papers to grade. It was marvelous. And what was it like in the snow country?”

Katie frowned. She still hadn’t made up her mind whether to tell anyone about Sam. The whole episode—the whole week—was still too confusing for her. It was much too painful for her to speak of him or to even think of him sometimes. Home for two days, she had seen Jason twice, but still hadn’t adjusted to the fact that she was Katie Jarvis, English teacher at Southern High, and that at Cedar Crest she had had a romance with a wonderful, wonderful man. If circumstances had been different, she wouldn’t be here, teaching Shakespeare and Swift.

The second-period class was drifting in. “I’ll tell you later,” she said to Irene. Maybe she’d be able to explain it all so that at least Irene could understand.

“Uh-oh! That kind of answer usually means it was either so terrible you don’t want to talk about it or it was so terrific that it shouldn’t be talked about.” Irene squinted her eyes. “Which one was it?”

Katie shook her head. “We’ll talk later, when there’s more time.”

“We’ll talk at lunch,” Irene said.

Later, in the teachers’ cafeteria, Katie dawdled with her food as she debated whether to tell Irene about Sam. Why not? Irene was probably the only other person in the world who would understand.

“The one bad thing about getting away from all the kids and teaching is that you have to come back,” Irene was saying. “But then again, what else would I do? Don’t get me wrong—I really love it here, but there are days I’d rather be somewhere else.” She pushed her coffee away. “Okay, Katie, tell me about your vacation. Did you have a good time?”

Katie nodded. “Uh-huh. Really. All the snow you could ask for and all the skiing under nearly perfect conditions.” She tried to keep the conversation light, not wanting to reveal anything. Maybe by the time she was ready to talk about it, all the hurt would have disappeared.

Irene cocked her head to one side. “Is that all? You’ve gone away before and have never come back quite like this.” She stared at Katie. “No, there’s something about you, something different. Something happened there, didn’t it? I can tell. There’s something that I can’t quite figure out. Something that’s happy and yet sad with you. If I didn’t know you better, Katie, I would say you met someone.” She narrowed her eyes. “You did, didn’t you? I knew it. I just knew it! It’s in your eyes.”

Katie took a deep breath. “I always said you were my best friend. You’re right. I did meet someone at the Crest, but it’s not like you think.”
Not like I want to think, either,
she thought, and then she remembered Sam’s smile and slightly crooked tooth, and for a moment she could almost believe that she was back at the Crest, waiting for him to ski down the mountain with her.