Warm Winter Love (4 page)

The cross-country trail led past an old farm—past the deserted and neglected boarded-up gray, weathered house and barn and sheds and its only use nowadays was as a marker for skiers who needed signposts as guides back to the main resort area.

They had already passed the farmhouse on their way out and now, this, their second time in view of the abandoned homestead, on their return to the Crest, they were both delighting in the fact that their tracks were the only ones still showing in the snow. Sam invented a game—seeing who could ski as near as possible to their original markings but at one point he made a wrong maneuver and crossed over too early, so that his skis imprinted over her lines for a few feet before he returned to his original position. She pointed to where the tracings merged. “You’ve double-crossed me, Sam Hubbard,” she said, laughing. “You’ve invaded my territory.”

“Would I do that?” he teased. “The best skiing partner I’ve ever had—would I deliberately cross her up?” He held out his arms. “Would I really do that to a beautiful stranger who’s befriended me?” He nodded his head. “You are, you know.”

“I…” She hoped he would think the blush on her face was only from the cold weather.

“Come on,” he said pulling back onto his primary course and, with an extra burst of speed, moved ahead of her. “Catch me, if you can.”

Katie watched the motions of his arms and shoulders and suddenly felt a strange sensation. She crinkled her eyes as though compressing them would help her to understand what the feeling was but she couldn’t quite sort it out even though the vague, unknown, feathery ticking at her temples seemed to be telling her something… to be warning her about… about what? It seemed strange but it was as though quite suddenly she knew in this altogether ordinary moment, as she and Sam approached close to the abandoned farmhouse, that everything seemed to be changing for her. It was nothing she could put her finger on… nothing so overt that she could say, yes, that’s when she knew it—when she realized that something had happened to the both of them. It was just that odd little feeling… a soft, delicate feeling… almost as though a perfect calm had overtaken her.

They paused at the porch of the house and sat down on the snow-covered steps, catching their breath and resting for a few minutes before continuing on the trail. It was late in the afternoon, almost four o’clock, and the sun was already beginning to set. The sky was streaked with deep rose-pink and blue-gray clouds and it was at that almost-dusk time of day when she could see the lights in the distance but not really clearly. She knew it was time to return to the Crest before they would have trouble finding their way back, but instead, they lingered. They began to talk about their lives. She told him about some of the students and the way they acted and even how they had nicknamed her “Kindhearted Katie” because she really didn’t want anyone to fail her class. He laughed and told her he couldn’t envision her in a classroom.

It was funny, she thought; she didn’t feel reluctant about telling him the stories. She even told him about Irene, her best friend, and how they had both gone to the same school and had grown up together and now were teachers. But, for some reason, she was hesitant to tell him about Jason and so she avoided speaking about him. He wasn’t a topic she wanted to bring up. Besides, there was no reason to tell him about Jason. What would she tell Sam—that she and Jason were engaged… that this would probably be her last skiing trip before she married? No, she would keep that to herself. Besides, why would he care?

Sam told her about his childhood in a small town in Michigan and how he had gone to the state university and then gotten interested in computers and everything they could do and he liked looking at them and taking them apart and how he had hoped that someday he would own his own computer company. But for now, he said, he was content to be a sales rep and do a lot of overseas traveling, persuading companies to buy his product.

“It’s hard work, Katie, but I enjoy it. I like the challenges of what computers can do. And I’ve always had the traveling bug. When I was a kid, if anyone ever said to me,
‘Hey, Sam, how would you like to go to . . .
?’—it didn’t matter where—whether it was to Rome or London or Chicago or to the corner grocery, I always said sure. Even then I loved to roam. Maybe that’s why I like that Robert Frost poem. Maybe someday I’ll really stop by the woods on a snowy evening or afternoon.”

He stretched his legs in front of him so that they dangled on the steps. He looked around him and spread his hands wide.

“Maybe someday I’ll find another place like this and stop—period! Just stop roaming.” He laughed. “But I don’t think so, Katie-Katie… at least not until I’m old and gray and tired.” He dug the tip of his ski pole into the snow and moved it round and round so that it created a small, deep hole. “Did you ever have the wander-lust?” he asked her. “Did you ever want to travel to the ends of the earth?”

She could tell by his tone of voice that he was serious and wanted a serious answer. She shook her head.

“No, Sam, this is about as far as I’ve gone or as far as I want to go except for a few trips to Alabama. That’s where my mother’s family lives and I go down there occasionally. And I’ve gone to Canada and Mexico but that’s the extent of my travels. Or my expectations. I suspect I’m a homebody. I like my home and to have all my friends around me.”

He waved toward the Crest. “Katie, you should see Switzerland and the snow and mountains there. And Italy. And all the glories of the winter months in the Alps. You’d love it.” He slapped his hands together. “If you like this—the cold and ice and snow and all the things some people think aren’t any fun—well, you just have to see those countries someday.”

He took hold of her hands in a gesture of emphasis and she caught her breath. “It’s a jumble, Katie, a white-dusted jumble. All kinds of people, all kinds of languages and sounds.” He let go of her hands and leaned back against the steps so that the back of his parka was pushed into the accumulated drifts. “Someday you have to go there,” he said, and for a moment she thought it sounded like a cheerful command. “And,” he continued, his eyes mischievous and sparkling, “when you get there and you go down the Alps and you want to yell so that the echo keeps bouncing back at you from all sides, remember me, Katie. Remember Sam Hubbard—the man you met at Cedar Crest. Remember that it was he who told you to go there.”

He looked at her and laughed and brushed the snow away from his arm. “Someday, Katie Jarvis, when you do get there and you remember me, mark my words that you’ll remember that it was on a late afternoon in winter, when it was getting colder and you were getting tired and all you wanted to do was to go back to the Crest, there was this guy who kept talking and talking and he was the one who told you about the Alps and who encouraged you to ski the slopes.” He scattered some snow from the steps. “Someday you’ll remember me and you’ll smile. Take my word for it. But do me a favor, because I know you’ll be with someone, maybe your husband and maybe even your children—don’t tell them about us. Let them always think and conjecture about your mysterious past. Let them wonder who the unexplained man was in your life.”

She knew he was teasing and they both laughed at the silliness of it, but something happened in that moment and his words no longer seemed humorous. She stopped laughing and she realized that Sam had, too.

She put her hand to her face, confused about the strange feeling that was overtaking her again, and she turned to him and saw that he was staring at her, looking at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. She frowned and they were both quiet and in the stillness she could hear the call of a blackbird as it passed overhead.

“Katie…” He reached out to her and ran his ice-caked gloves across her cheek slowly. “Katie, I…” he said once more and then before she knew what was happening and before she could control it, he moved his head toward hers and slowly, very slowly, kissed her. When she didn’t pull back or protest he kissed her again.

“Katie,” he murmured and she leaned her head against his shoulder so that she was caught within the circle of his arms. She liked the feel of the cold nylon of his parka against her face and for a moment she had the uncontrollable feeling that she wanted to yell into the stillness that she wished she could stay in his arms for a long, long time.

He kissed her once more and it was this last kiss that recalled them both to the present and the lateness of the day. He released her abruptly, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I don’t know what to say, Katie.” He stood up and kicked at the snow on the lowest step of the porch. “I…”

She shook her head slightly. “Neither do I, Sam.” She moved away from him and tugged her hat down tighter over her hair because she didn’t know what else to do and she hoped that doing something physical might break the spell between them. “Maybe,” she said slowly and deliberately, “we should just say it was the weather and the fun and the excitement and leave it at that.”

“Maybe,” he replied, “but then maybe not.” He picked up his ski poles and was quiet for a few moments before he looked at her and finally spoke: “It’s getting late, Katie. We’d better go back.”

She nodded and moved quickly past him and onto the trail. They were both silent during their return to the Crest. She thought about the episode, refusing to probe why she had responded so easily to him, and she vowed that she wouldn’t let anything else happen between her and Sam—that nothing must happen.

She was confused and all the way back she kept changing her mind about what she would do. At first she thought that she wouldn’t see him again, that she would make some excuse not to meet him for dinner anymore and also find an excuse not to ski with him. That would be difficult, she knew, but she could work it so that she would never be in the same area as Sam, not on the mountain or in the Crest or restaurant. But she quickly rejected that idea. She was an adult and could control whatever had happened to them. She certainly could manage the situation and see that it didn’t occur again.

She kept her head down, looking only as far as necessary in order to find her way back to the Crest. Sam was silent too and she wondered if he was also questioning the wisdom of the episode. It had happened to both of them but what it was she still couldn’t admit. She inhaled the cold air as though it would clear her mind so that she could either understand their kiss or forget it completely. But it was very difficult to dismiss and as she skied she went over the sequence again and again. She and Sam had been having such a good time; they had had no worries or cares. And then he kissed her and confused her.

She slowly shook her head. No, it wasn’t just him. Hadn’t she leaned her head toward him? Hadn’t she offered no resistance?

“It’s wrong,” she said softly into the cold air. “It never should have happened. It’s wrong,” she repeated to herself but she wasn’t sure of her reasoning. “I’m engaged to Jason. I’m going to marry Jason.” She inhaled another breath, gulping it into her lungs as though the cold air would authenticate her logic. It was just a moment in time. It was the weather and the laughing and… and… circumstances. She’d make sure it would never happen again. She was an adult… she could handle things and no need to ignore Sam for the next few days. She’d just make sure to keep things light. And she’d remember that she was going home to Jason.

When they met for dinner that evening neither spoke of the incident and it was as though the kiss had never happened. And later that night, while lying in bed, she began to believe that the brief romantic moments on the farmhouse steps never really did happen. It was something that was fleeting. An anomaly. Something that would never happen again. She made a silent vow.

Chapter Four

Katie stared out of her window. It was going to be another beautiful day but somehow the sunshine and the fresh layer of snow really didn’t matter right now. She had had a restless night thinking about Sam and when she finally fell asleep she hadn’t resolved anything. She shook her head and wished that she didn’t have to think about it—that whatever the problem was—it would just solve itself. She had never had a dilemma like this. She had been having fun. The skiing conditions were near perfect. She was getting lots of rest and relaxation. And everything was exactly what she wanted. But then there was yesterday. And now everything had changed.

“Sam.” She said his name softly and then repeated it. He was getting to her, invading her thoughts. He might be a person she met only three days ago but already she was looking forward to seeing and being with him. And that was dangerous. She knew she had no right to be thinking of him, caring about him. Jason was her love. Well, maybe he wasn’t her all-consuming love, but he was the man she was engaged to marry. They had an understanding. Right after this semester they were going to begin making plans for their marriage. They had agreed on that; after June they would make all the necessary arrangements for their wedding. Their lives were already charted for the future.

She put her finger to the cold windowpane and traced a snowflake that had fallen against it and melted and was now a drop of water cascading down the glass. All kinds of thoughts and excuses were flooding her mind. Maybe she was making too much out of these days and nights with Sam. Maybe she was just overwhelmed by the wonder of the mountain—her mountain—and that she was at last able to share it with someone. With Sam. But then again, perhaps she was making too much of yesterday’s kisses. Perhaps it had been just the moment and the closeness. She began to make excuses. Possibly it would have happened with anyone, anyone who would have teased her and made her laugh, and anyone who would have paid her an extra amount of attention. It probably was only a momentary fascination. It didn’t necessarily mean that she was deeply attracted to Sam. After all, she didn’t know anything about him, only that he was a man who traveled a lot, and certainly that wasn’t what she wanted. No, that definitely was not what she wanted.