Winter Longing (6 page)

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Authors: Tricia Mills

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Love & Romance

BOOK: Winter Longing
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I turned to say something—maybe an unexpected thank you—but I’d waited too long. He was already walking away.
I couldn’t begin to explain why his departure left me feeling confused. And with an odd sense of longing.
Spencer looked out across the gym floor at our seventh-grade classmates at our first school dance. He shrugged and glanced over at me.
“Guess we might as well dance,” he said. “Since we’re here and all.”
CHAPTER 6
 
Walking
into Spencer’s memorial service on Saturday felt like an out-of-body experience. Nothing seemed real—not Reverend Blake’s words as he greeted us at the door, not the many fragrant flower arrangements perfuming the air, not Lesa and Kristen, who had flown home from college to be with me and to say their own good-byes. They’d known Spencer all his life, had treated him like the little brother they didn’t have.
All the voices around me sounded muffled and very far away. I imagined that must be what it felt like to be high—disconnected from everything and everyone around me.
I spotted Monica Belanov hugging Lindsay near a large photo of a smiling Spencer. I remembered that picture. It’d been during Tundra Books’ midnight release party for
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
. Somehow, the choice of that photo rang perfect, and also tremendously wrong.
“Come on, sweetie,” Lesa said, as she guided me forward.
I wanted to run away and pretend this wasn’t happening, this finality to Spencer’s life. But I didn’t have the strength. I’d probably trip in the black Nine West pumps I was wearing and fall face-first in the church vestibule.
My sisters must have sensed my hesitation as we headed for the front of the sanctuary, because they held on to me even more firmly as we walked.
When we reached Monica and Lindsay, Monica hugged me. I held on to her with what little strength I had. Lindsay had difficulty meeting my eyes, but after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled me to her. We clung to each other until Mom steered us toward Spencer’s parents.
I balked. “I can’t. I’m not ready.”
Mom tried to guide me forward, but I refused to move.
“Just give me a couple minutes.” I spun around and headed toward the restroom as if it were my salvation.
When I reached the rose and off-white sitting area for the restroom, I braced myself against the sink and tried to get my ragged breathing under control. I was concentrating on an exhale when Lindsay came through the door. Without a word, she wetted a paper towel and handed it to me. I pressed it against my forehead. In the mirror, I noticed the dark circles under her eyes: the red-rimmed evidence of earlier tears.
I shook my head slowly. “I can’t go back out there. I can’t face this.”
Lindsay’s look hardened as she met my eyes in the mirror. “You can, and you will. I know you’re hurting, but today isn’t about you. We have to be strong for Spencer’s parents. They’ve lost their only child.” Lindsay’s voice broke, but she cleared her throat in an attempt at hiding it.
Her words sank through my sorrow. Some tiny reserve of strength told me I could be brave for the next hour or two, for Spencer’s parents, who were like a second mom and dad to me.
My head spun as I walked slowly toward the door.
When I reentered the sanctuary and approached Mr. and Mrs. Isaacs, I saw the distraught look on Spencer’s mom’s face. In that moment, I hated Lindsay for making me do this.
Mrs. Isaacs wrapped me in her arms and squeezed me like it might bring Spencer back. “He loved you so much,” she said in my ear.
I ached that I’d never hear him say those words to me the way I’d wanted. I swallowed past the painful lump in my throat. “I loved him, too,” I whispered.
I sat through the service, listening to eulogies for the boy I’d loved with all my heart. I stared at his picture, half believing it would spring to life.
“Winter Craig has asked to say a few words,” Reverend Blake said.
I still couldn’t believe I’d offered to speak. But as I’d looked at my bookshelves the night before and realized that books written by Spencer would never be among them, I’d felt compelled to share some of his words.
My entire body shook as I rose to my feet. Through some miracle, I made it to the podium without collapsing. I looked out at all the faces I’d known my entire life and choked back a sob. I opened the paper I held and smoothed it atop the podium.
“Spencer wanted to do two things in life—fly and write. He wanted to fly around the world and write about what he saw from the air.” I swallowed past the giant lump in my throat and gripped the sides of the podium more tightly. “ ‘The Ribbon,’ by Spencer Isaacs.” I cleared my throat and began to read.
“ ‘The river, silver and shining, undulates like a ribbon in the breeze. It breathes its foggy breath and winks at me as the sun kisses its surface. It caresses the fish below its glassy surface and tempts the birds of every stripe to taste of it.’ ”
By the time I finished the passage, I knew everyone in the room would never look at the Naknek the same way again. Spencer had taken something we all saw every day and made it magical—the way he was for me.
It took me a moment to unclasp my fingers from where they’d been holding me upright and for my brain to tell my legs to move. By the time I reached my seat, I was utterly exhausted.
The sound of someone else’s tears made me glance around the room. Beyond Spencer’s Aunt Barbara, I spotted Jesse. He was watching me. I quickly returned my attention to the front of the sanctuary, where the choir began singing “Come to Jesus.”
I bit my quivering lip as the lyrics assaulted me. Lindsay gripped my left hand, and I blinked back the tears that wanted so desperately to break free. I stared at the flowers and photo, and my anguish finally spilled down my cheeks, along my neck, and into the top of my black dress.
When the choir sang, “And with your final heartbeat, kiss the world good-bye,” I squeezed Lindsay’s hand even harder. I felt her shaking with restrained sorrow.
God, help me through this.
The smell of fried chicken assaulted me as we approached the potluck spread provided by the ladies of the church, and I had to swallow hard to keep from being sick.
“He was such a good boy,” I heard the minister’s mother say to Mr. Henning, the school principal.
The potluck proved to be too much. I had to get out of the building, away from all these sad people, before I suffocated. I mumbled that I was going to get a slice of pie and headed for the far tables laden with desserts. Why was there so much food? How could people eat at a time like this?
I walked past the desserts, into the hall, and through the back door.
I started to fall apart well before I got home. By the time I rushed through the front door of our normally comforting log house, I was ripping at the buttons of my dress. I couldn’t get it off fast enough. It felt like it was sucking the life out of me, hiding it in the midnight weave of the fabric.
I tossed the dress on my bed and threw the black hose in the trash can. I screamed as I took one of the dark heels and threw it with as much force as I could at the wall, puncturing Keira Knightley’s face on my
Pride and Prejudice
poster.
I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old Tundra School T-shirt and collapsed into my corner chair. I stared at the black funeral dress. Rage bubbled inside me until I leaped from the chair and grabbed the dress. I fumbled in the nightstand drawer, searching for the box of matches I used to light candles.
I nearly tripped down the stairs in my haste to get to the backyard, to make this damned dress go away forever. Several feet away from the house, I dropped to the ground and lit a match. Twice, matches sparked, then died before I could bring them to the dress’s hem. The third only caused a bit of a stinking smolder.
“Damn it! Why won’t you burn?” Tears streamed down my face.
“Winter.”
I spun to see Jesse standing a few feet away.
“What are you doing?”
I surged to my feet. “Go away! You don’t belong here. This isn’t for you.” I returned to striking and cursing the matches, tossing them aside when they refused to cooperate. “Burn, damn you, burn!”
Jesse touched my shoulder, and I launched myself at him. “Leave me alone!” I hit his shoulder with my fist. “Just leave me alone.” My voice broke as I hit him again and again.
He used his strength to grab my hands and stop the assault. I continued to struggle until the last bit of fight died away. A horrible sob surged out of me. Jesse finally released my wrists and pulled me to him, pressing me against his chest. “Why did he leave me?” I whispered.
Jesse didn’t answer. He just held me, keeping me from collapsing as the world’s worst pain poured out of me.
“What’s that? ” I asked as I watched Spencer hanging a poster in Tundra Books.
“Mom wants these love quotes all over the store for Valentine’s Day,” he replied. He turned the quote so I could see it.
“There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved.
—George Sand”
I turned my attention to the rack of paperbacks next to me so he wouldn’t see how the words made my heart flutter.
CHAPTER 7
 
Things
didn’t get any easier after the memorial service. First, the horrible, embarrassing breakdown with Jesse. Now, I stood outside the door to the school on Monday morning, wondering how I’d ever make it through the first hour, let alone the entire day. The familiar concrete structure felt like a foreign land as I stared at it.
A hand at my back made me jump.
“I’m sorry, Winter,” said Mrs. Schuler, the guidance counselor. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She looked at me sympathetically. “I just wanted to let you know that if you need to talk today, or anytime, I’m here.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, before hurrying away from her and into the school.
The last day I’d walked these halls, Spencer had been with me.
I ran my hands over the lightweight navy-blue sweater Spencer had bought me for Christmas last year. Its cuffs were long and lacy—he’d said it looked like something a costume designer would wear. I tried to draw some strength from it. I felt more alone, now that the gulf between Lindsay and me kept widening.
I hadn’t realized until I’d been walking to school this morning that I hadn’t talked to her since the scene in the bathroom at the church. Had we ever gone a day without at least a phone call?
Suddenly, I dreaded seeing her. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to talk to anyone. I ducked into the restroom. A group of girls standing next to the sinks stopped talking when they saw me. One gave me a sad smile. I tried to smile back, but it felt more like a grimace. I hurried into a stall, sinking onto the closed toilet. I tried desperately to calm down. Why had my parents made me come back so soon? Only a week had passed since the crash.
Dad had taken my hand this morning, holding it firmly in his own. “Be honest with yourself. You knew Spencer better than most people. Would he want this?”
I’d relaxed my hand in Dad’s and let the awful realization sink in. I could actually hear Spencer telling me to get my pitiful butt out of bed.
As I walked back to my locker, I felt as if I were slogging through thick mud. Each step sapped a bit more of what little energy I had. I caught whispers as I passed by groups of my classmates.
“She looks so pale.”
“I can’t imagine how she must feel.”
“Didn’t Jesse Kerr follow her home from the memorial service?”
At this, I shot a look at Tazzie Blue. She sucked in a breath and lowered her eyes, embarrassed that I’d heard.
God, how was I going to face Jesse after what had happened? How could I have broken down like that? I scanned the hallway and didn’t see him. I knew it was probably too much to hope for, but maybe I could avoid what was sure to be an uncomfortable confrontation.
By the time I reached my locker, I had to lean my head against the cool metal to catch my breath.
“Hey,” Lindsay said next to me. “I wondered if you were coming today.”
“Not much choice.”
“Where did you go on Saturday? ” Was that a hint of accusation in her voice, or was I imagining it?
“Home. I couldn’t stay any longer. I felt like I was going to suffocate.”
“I didn’t want to be there, either.”
“I know that,” I snapped, realizing too late how mean I sounded. I didn’t want to—I just didn’t seem to be able to help myself. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to calm down. “It’s just been a horrible week,” I said, as I looked at her again.
Lindsay opened her mouth to say something, but she quickly stopped herself. “I’ll see you later,” she said, slamming the door to her locker.

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