Chapter Five
G abe stood there, unsure what to do. She was looking at him with as much uncertainty as he felt. Should he sit with her? Did she want him to?
His hesitation lost him the last free table in the café. It was either sit with her or take his muffin and coffee to go.
“For heaven’s sake, Gabriel, sit down. I don’t bite.”
He pulled out the extra chair and sat opposite her. He hadn’t sat across from another person and made conversation in over a year. He searched for something to say before noticing the bag at her feet. “You found the bookstore.”
Her face lit up. “I did. That’s always one of the first places I go when I get to a new town. This one is great, and I met the owner, too.”
She looked down, smiling into her ?mug. A private smile, but he wanted to know what it was for.
“And?” he prompted.
“My young adult novel was published last year, and the owner wants me to read at the store sometime before Christmas. He said he loves my book. One of the booksellers said she recommends it all the time.”
Her smile was luminous, lighting her eyes and casting its warmth over him. She looked down into her mug again, as if to hide her pleasure.
He’d forgotten what happiness looked like. “That’s great. Congratulations.”
She met his eyes now, her pleasure banked but still there in the smile that played at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you. It meant a lot to me. I’ve been having trouble with my work ever since things fell apart with the man I was seeing. I’m hoping I can get back on track and make my deadline.”
“When is that?”
“March first. If I can stay focused, I should be okay.”
He still didn’t believe she’d make it through the winter, but he wasn’t going to say that right now.
“What’s your new book about?”
Her eyebrows flew up. “You really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“The series I’m writing is about three young women in the early nineteen hundreds from rural Illinois. In the one I’m writing now, one of them goes to Chicago to train to be a doctor.”
“Did medical schools accept women that early?”
“Not many, and not willingly. The struggles she has are a big part of the book.”
“That sounds great.”
“I was really excited about this story. But the problem with getting a contract is you have to actually write the book, and that part hasn’t been so fun.”
“Too much pressure?”
“Exactly. I had already written the first one when they offered me the first contract, so that was different. It didn’t matter that it had taken me three years. But I only have a year to write book two.”
“It’s always harder to work on something when there are expectations.”
“Exactly. But there’s nothing to do here but write, so I ought to be able to finish it. It’s getting easier.”
She picked up her mug to take another sip and found it empty.
He pushed back his chair and stood up. “I’ll get you another. What are you drinking?”
“Hot chocolate, but I shouldn’t.”
It was the protest of someone who actually wanted more. “I’ll be right back.”
He took the two mugs the barista handed him and made his way back. Setting her cocoa down on the table, he watched as she leaned over it, her eyes fluttering closed as she inhaled.
Her smile was soft when she looked at him again. “Thank you. That was very sweet.”
“You looked bereft.”
“Now there’s an excellent word.” She dipped her spoon into the mug and carefully scooped out whipped cream. Once again, her eyes fluttered. “Mmm. That’s so good.”
He’d never seen her so at ease, probably because he was always telling her she was doing something wrong. But he was having a hard time caring about any of that right now. In a different time and place, he’d have asked her to dinner and done his damnedest to impress her.
He took a sip from his own mug.
She glanced over. “You got hot chocolate, too?”
“You made it look so good.”
“And?”
“And it is.”
She smiled. “So what brought you here? Are you a big skier?”
He took his time drinking, then set his mug carefully on the table.
He’d taken a trip to Jeffrey in March when things with Angie were falling apart. He couldn’t concentrate on anything, couldn’t stand his own thoughts. He’d always loved it here, so he’d booked a hotel room and spent all day snowshoeing and skiing, wearing himself out physically in the hopes it would keep him from thinking about Ricky. It hadn’t really worked, but it was better than being at home and watching his life turn to ash.
“I’ve been skiing here for years. Last winter, I came up late in the season and overheard Len telling someone he needed a caretaker. I had decided I wanted to spend more time up here, so the arrangement worked for both of us.”
“Where do you normally live?”
“Sacramento.”
Maybe she could tell he didn’t want to say any more, because she let it go at that.
“How do you know Len?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation clear of his personal landmines.
“I met him through my ex, Mark. They both taught in the linguistics department at Berkeley, and I met Len and Suzy at the department’s holiday party. We hit it off like you do sometimes.”
“He’s a good guy. I guess he likes helping people out.”
“I don’t know how I’ll repay him.”
“He wouldn’t want you to. He was happy to do it.”
“I suppose.” She set her mug on the table with a thunk. “Oh God.”
“What’s wrong?”
“That bear could come back when Len’s family is here. I’ll have to tell him.”
“We do have to tell him, but it may eventually stop coming around when it doesn’t find any more food.”
“Really? How long is eventually?”
“I couldn’t tell you that.”
She slumped in her seat, looking defeated. But then, he had that effect on her, didn’t he? Joining her like this was a bad idea.
“I should probably—” he started.
“I wanted to ask you,” she said quickly, pulling a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket and unfolding it. “I found this in my post office box. Have you gone to these types of things?”
It was a flier about events in town.
“No, but I imagine they’re worth doing.”
“I’m excited about the raptor series. Did you know there are golden eagles and bald eagles around here?”
“I’ve seen them before, but not often.”
“There’s also a talk on the effect western expansion and mining had on the local Native American communities.”
“When is that happening?” he asked, before he could think better of it.
“Let’s see. Seven o’clock next Thursday. Do you want to go?”
A simple question, but not a simple answer. He ought to say no. He was terrible company, and he managed to upset her every time they were together. But the hopeful look in her eyes sealed the deal. She was trying so hard, and apparently, he wasn’t completely dead inside.
“Sure, why not?”
There was that smile again, sweet enough to cloud any man’s judgement. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be planning ways to see it again. But this was as harmless as they came. They’d sit in uncomfortable chairs in the historical society building for an hour, learn a little history, and that would be that. He should probably figure out a reason to drive separately.
Outside the plate glass windows, snow began to fall—lightly at first, then heavier—the kind of big fluffy flakes that fell when it was fairly warm out, only to melt as soon as they hit the ground. Lucy was too intent on her hot chocolate to notice at first, but when she finally glanced out the window, her eyes grew huge, and she seemed to stop breathing.
She was up and out of her chair without a word, and he watched in confusion as she raced out the door and stood on the sidewalk. Tipping her head back, she spread her arms wide, her face to the sky as snowflakes fell softly on her cheeks and caught in her eyelashes, experiencing the snow with every part of herself.
His breath caught in his chest at the sight, and a pulse of something moved through him—whether desire or envy, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to be entranced. Didn’t want to think about how long it had been since he’d lost himself like that.
That was one of the amazing things about being with Ricky. He never held anything back, and he rushed out to try every new thing he could.
But Ricky wouldn’t have any more firsts.
Lucy’s eyes were glowing when she returned a few minutes later. “It’s beautiful out there.”
“Enjoy it now,” he said, pushing the cloying hot chocolate away. “You’ll be sick of it soon enough. Wait until you have to slog through it to take the dog out.”
The light went out of her eyes. “Possibly. But right now, I think it’s lovely. Is there some reason you had to ruin that for me?”
“I just think you should know what you’re dealing with.”
“You’re right that I’m not prepared for winter here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn how to be. It’s not like I have to shoot my own food, for heaven’s sake.”
“No, but there are other things that can cause problems. Like the fact that your car is only two-wheel drive, and what’s worse, the tires are nearly bald. As soon as it snows even a little, you’ll be stranded.”
“I take your point, okay? I have a lot to learn. But you could have said, ‘Hey Lucy, did you know you need new tires?’ I would actually appreciate knowing that.”
This was why he shouldn’t have sat down. He wasn’t capable of having a pleasant conversation with her. With anyone, really.
“You know,” she went on, “it would be easier if you were a jerk all the time. Some days—no, some minutes—you’re actually pleasant company, but then it turns on a dime. That’s what gets me into trouble. I let my guard down, and before I know it, you’re finding fault with me again.”
“Sorry. I’ll get out of your hair.” He grabbed his mug and stood up. “Congratulations again on the reading. That’s going to be great.”
She didn’t say anything, only watched him with those sad eyes of hers. She didn’t even look angry anymore, only confused and let down.
Again.
He climbed into his cold truck and headed home, or what counted as home for now. Before he was a mile from town, the cruelty of what he’d said left him burning with mortification. In what world did it make sense to ruin a person’s joy just because he couldn’t experience it?
He was a monster, which was exactly why he’d secluded himself up here. His family couldn’t seem to believe that, but Lucy was no doubt convinced.
Thanksgiving was only two weeks away, and he still hadn’t told his mother he wasn’t coming. He’d known for weeks, if not months, and he couldn’t put it off any longer.
As soon as he got back to his cabin, he called her.
She answered on the first ring. “Is everything all right, Gabe?”
This was how she started every conversation, whether he called her or she called him. She’d been doing it since long before he actually wasn’t all right.
“Fine, Mom. But I, ah, I wanted to tell you I’m not coming home for Thanksgiving after all.”
She said nothing for several seconds, but her sadness was palpable.
“I understand you needing time,” she finally said, “but it’s not healthy for you to be alone so long. You’ve gotten too used to it. Do you remember Linda, my friend from down the street? After she lost her husband, she stopped leaving the house. Eventually, she had panic attacks when she tried to go outside. If you retreat from the world, you’ll forget how to live in it.”
She had a point. He knew she did, but it didn’t change anything.
“I do see people.”
“Seeing isn’t the same as talking.”
“I talk to people, too. Sometimes.”
“Your sister says a woman is staying in the big cabin?”
“We don’t have much in common, but I see her every so often.”
His interactions with Lucy were proof that what his mother said was true, but he couldn’t admit that and still refuse to go home.
“Maybe the two of you can keep each other company for Thanksgiving.”
“We’ll see. I’m not sure what she’s doing for the holiday.”
“Ask her.”
“What’s Dad up to?”
She sighed, clearly frustrated with his attempt to change the subject. “He’s out car shopping with Natalie. She’s afraid of being taken advantage of because she’s a woman, and she thinks having your dad around will help.”
“You’re kidding me. Natalie’s way tougher than Dad.”
“You and I know that, but the car dealers don’t. She thinks he’s good window dressing.”
That was Natalie, always a step ahead of everyone. She was savvy and preternaturally confident, not to mention an aggressive negotiator. As a kid, whenever he so much as wanted to borrow a book or ruler, she made him sign a contract stipulating the terms of the arrangement. It was funny as hell now but made him crazy at the time.
“How does Dad feel about being window dressing?”
“He doesn’t know that’s what he is. He thinks he’s there for his expertise.”
His chest tightened. “Give them my love and tell them I’m sorry I won’t make it.”
“Think about Christmas, Gabe. Please.”
He couldn’t imagine being ready to go home at Christmas either, but he couldn’t tell her that now. “I will. Talk to you soon, Mom.”
He hung up, then stared at the wall for another few minutes, memories of Ricky surfacing now that he’d let down his guard.
“We’re seriously hiking all the way to the top?” Ricky had asked, five minutes into the first hike he took him on.
Gabe had started to doubt the plan within the first few minutes of the hike. He wanted Ricky to love it like he loved it, to experience the peace and freedom of the trail, but maybe he was trying too hard, pushing Ricky into something that wasn’t his thing.
“This was probably a dumb idea,” he said, stopping in the middle of the trail.
Ricky shrugged. “Nah, we’re here anyway. It’s cool.”
That was Ricky, always up for trying something new. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to hurt Gabe’s feelings. Despite the fact that he had never been anywhere near a mountain, he made it to the summit without much difficulty. His pride in the achievement was obvious. For a good part of the journey back down, he joked about how easy it was, how Gabe was getting old and slow.
God, he’d have done anything for that kid.
How could a person be there one minute and gone the next? It still didn’t make any sense.
He stood so abruptly, the rocking chair careened backwards and hit the wall. Going into his room, he shucked his clothes and pulled on running shorts and a shirt, then tugged on his sneakers. A few minutes later, he slammed through the front door and set off on a run, the chilly air slapping his face and clearing his lungs. Heading for the trail, he took the incline without any warm-up, wanting to punish his muscles, test his lungs. He ran until he couldn’t think of anything but the rhythm of his breath and his feet pounding the trail.
His mother talked about coping skills. Well, this was his. It would have to do.