Say Ye (32 page)

“You better go pack a bag,” Lorenzo said. A satisfied grin showed his dimple. “It’ll be snowing.”

Lita smiled. She loved playing in the snow but she’d only gotten the chance a few times in her life.

“What about work?” she said, still reluctant to be alone with him all week.

“Lee and Janetta said they’d handle everything. I bought you a new outfit while I was out. It’s on the bed.”

He brushed past her as he strode into the kitchen. She wanted to either hug or hit him. Instead she shrugged and went upstairs.

The drive out Highway 80 was quiet except for the sounds of the tire tread peeling over the road, the other cars whooshing past, her humming, and the swishing of her new black snow boots, form fitting pants, and jacket when she shifted in her seat. She admired the sheen of the new clothes and boots, with their cute pink trim, but she wouldn’t allow herself to get too happy.

But she had to smile as they approached the wooded cabins, like life-size gingerbread houses dotting a vast white confection. The snow, still a pristine white, sprinkled the trees and buildings as if a giant pastry chef wielded a duster of powdered sugar.

Lita giggled as Lorenzo parked. She hopped out of her small SUV, running and twirling through the fresh snow. She found a clear spot while Lorenzo offloaded their suitcases and she fell back, splaying her arms and legs out before scissoring them back and forth. She closed her eyes a moment, the icy wet chill seeped into her clothes. When she opened her eyes, the vast crisp blue sky above grew hazy and dark in the afternoon light. Lorenzo approached, his feet whisked through the snow.

“Need help?” he said.

She made an affirmative mm-hum and held up her arm. He lifted her as if she was as light as a meringue cookie. She turned to look at her handiwork, a perfect snow angel.

“My angel,” he said, stealing his arm around her waist.

She drew in a shaky breath, pushed him away, bent down, and drew her hands across the imprint until it was unrecognizable. Willing herself not to cry, she ran into the cabin and locked herself in the bedroom.

She wanted to stay in the room all night, but she had to come out to find the bathroom and her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She changed her clothes, hanging up the wet pants and jacket, exchanging the boots for floppy pink socks. She’d been wearing less pink lately as part of her plan to shake up her life with Lorenzo, but now she didn’t care, the color comforted her. When she walked out into the living room, complete with beamed ceilings and picture windows, Lorenzo jabbed a log in the blazing, crackling fire with a long poker. The sharp, cleansing smell of the new fire burned away part of the hard structure she’d constructed around herself.

“Nice fire,” she said.

He shrugged. “I’m good at making them. Not so good at sustaining them, or putting them out, either.”

“It always burns out on its own if you leave it alone long enough.”

“Do you want to be alone?”

“Where will you go?”

“In the other room.”

Lita shrugged. He walked out. She sat on the loveseat close to the fireplace and hugged a pillow. A few minutes later, he came back in with a tray, which he set on the coffee table near her.

“I reheated minestrone soup Celeste gave me and there’s some bread you made this morning.”

He folded himself onto the floor and leaned his back against the couch before he took a bowl. Lita slid to the floor too, sitting cross-legged in front of the table where they both ate. The hot soup and hotter fire soon took away her chill, leaving her body relaxed and heavy. She pulled herself back up to the sofa, where she curled up and looked out the windows, which now reflected the fire, and only glimpses of the trees and stars glistened through, sometimes shadowed as Lorenzo passed by. She shut her eyes. Exhaustion forced her head onto the cushions and kept her from protesting when Lorenzo eased himself next to her.

She woke with a start and surveyed the room. The sky, a rectangle in the window, was still grey, the pines stood sentinel over the quiet. She was in the bedroom, in the bed. Lorenzo must have carried her in last night. He appeared at the door, a faint burnt odor followed him. Blinking, she looked at him, already dressed, a rare sight in dark jeans and a tee shirt. She pushed her hair behind her ears.

“Morning. I made some toast. I tried for French toast, but it got overcooked.”

“Thanks. I think you need cooking lessons.”

“You could teach me.”

“I don’t have that much patience.”

“You’re merciful.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“Right there,” he said, motioning to the spot next to her as he set the tray with toast and tea down on the nightstand.

“You should’ve left me on the couch.”

“There’s been enough sleeping on sofas. I can sleep in the other bedroom tonight, if you want to be alone.”

“I don’t want to be here at all,” she said.

He shrugged and walked out.

But she loved being there. She ran out in the snow, made a very small snow family, and went for a long walk, all the time Lorenzo watched her from a distance. Sometimes her laughter echoed back through the sky-reaching pines and firs, and she breathed in the sound of her own joy along with the scent of the mellow mountain air and Christmassy conifers. She let Lorenzo take her for a drive near the lake, looking different than in its summer shimmeryness, but still as large and blue as she remembered from a trip with Lee and one of his girlfriends and her family a few years before. Lita and Lorenzo ate lunch at a small restaurant by the North Shore, where they spoke for the first time since the morning.

“I heard you came up here a few years ago with Lee, Amy, and her family?”

“The summer I was eighteen. We had fun. Amy was still nice.”

“Lee told me her brother tripped all over himself when he saw you in your swimsuit the first time.”

She glanced at him, he wore a wicked smile. “He fell over a chair. I don’t think that had anything to do with me.”

“You think? I ran a stop sign when Lee told me, imagining you out at the pool on a hot summer day.”

“Must’ve been a long time ago.”

“The Thanksgiving right before you turned nineteen.”

“Emma tried to warn me. I guess everyone knew better.”

“Lita…” he began. He put his hand on hers.

“Don’t,” she said as she pulled away.

They finished eating, went to the grocery store, and spent the drive back in silence.

Lita took another walk, this one short and subdued, before she made dinner, which they also ate without any sounds but their chewing, the low hum of the refrigerator, and the pop of logs in the fire. Lorenzo did the clean up while Lita made hot cocoa, which she sat nursing by the fire, staring into it while Lorenzo sat on the other sofa reading. Lita’s ears thrummed with so much quiet. She was used to the pleasant buzz of the city and constant company at home.

“I’m going to bed,” she said.

He glanced at his watch. “It’s only eight-thirty.”

“I’m going to take a bath first.”

“Want me to wash your back?”

“No,” she said, wondering if he could tell she didn’t mean it.

She yelled the same word sometime in the night, waking herself with the sound. The blackness enveloped her and she shook with fear born from her now indistinct nightmare. She had become accustomed to Lorenzo’s sheltering presence next to her every night.

“Lorenzo?” she said into the empty space.

“I’m here,” he said.

She could make out his form in the doorway and she almost laughed in relief. He walked over, lifted the blankets, and pulled her to him. She snuggled into his chest.

“I don’t like sleeping alone either,” he whispered before he kissed the top of her head.

His bare chest was cold so she ran her hands over him then stopped with a frown.

“At least I learned to live with it, unlike you,” she said.

“Just because I had sex with a lot of women didn’t mean I slept with them.”

“You kissed her back,” Lita whispered. Tears pooled where her cheek met Lorenzo’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She cried until she fell asleep, still snug in his arms.

They spent the next day much as they had the last, except they didn’t drive anywhere. The snow flurried around all afternoon. Lita watched it while she sat on a blanket in front of the fire. The fingers of white caressed the living room windows as Lorenzo poked the logs.

“I remember the first time I came up here, do you?” she said.

“Of course.”

“I still don’t know how Lee convinced Jane to be a chaperone or why the teachers let her.”

“Not too many volunteers to take a bunch of teenage boys on a ski trip. You know Lee could convince Jane into almost anything if he tried. He knew she’d be a terrible chaperone. He forgot to think about how you’d act.”

“He hoped I’d stay with Aunt Cass. Was I really that bad?”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow as he sat next to her, an arm stretched out on his raised knee. He chuckled. “Young men in a ski lodge hoping to meet some cuties and you’re there prancing around trying to make Lee and me build snowmen or take you for a walk?”

“And then your girlfriend showed up with her friend.” Lita made a sour face and Lorenzo laughed.

“I was only sixteen,” he said.

“You haven’t improved much.”

“You haven’t learned much.”

“I know more than I want to,” Lita said, moving her legs out to stand.

Lorenzo took her hand. “Please stay.”

Lita sat and looked at him. He’d never said that before.

“Why did you come over to our house so much? You had Uncle Enzo and his family.”

“You two were fun. Besides, I learned early my father hated Uncle Enzo. If we went there, he always made sure we regretted it. Then he’d tell us how we were all he had, since his parents and sister had died. We were his family.” Lorenzo stared into the bluish flames, absently fingering Lita’s hand.

“He yelled at you a lot?”

“He did more than yell.”

“Your mom too?” Lita whispered, holding his hand. Her chest hurt for him.

“I never saw him hit her, but I suspect he did. He was a sneaky, smart bastard. He knew how to keep us both under his thumb,” he said.

He stood, his hand slipped from hers. He leaned his arm on the mantel. It must have been so hot standing there, but he didn’t flinch.

“No one knows. They all suspected, I’m sure, but I never told.”

Lita stood, walked to him, and placed her hand on his back. “I won’t tell.”

He faced her. “You should call Janice. I’ve tried, but I’m no better than he was. I hurt you.” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

“Not like he hurt you and your mom. You’re not like him. You’re a good man. I love you,” she said.

She twined her arms around his neck and studied him. He gazed at her, his eyes intense but soft. She leaned up to him and kissed him, keeping on until he held her tight and returned her touch. Her chest lightened, she floated in the feeling of his firm body, his almost fierce, forceful embrace; she reeled with love.

“I love you,” he whispered as his fingers fondled her hair.

She sighed with the sharp draw to him as they descended to the quilt. Their fingers, slow but sure, pulled off sweaters, undid snaps and zippers, eased off every covering. The heat from the flames matched Lita’s own as she leaned back, waiting for Lorenzo’s solidity to cover her. He knew, he must have, as he kissed his way over her until she opened herself in anticipation, crying out and curving into him as he slipped into her. She followed his movements, kissing, caressing, undulating as the fire licked her side until she could see nothing but Lorenzo’s strong face over her, staring at her with such love her tears flitted down, like a lover’s fingertips tracing a path on smooth skin.

“Lita,” he murmured before he sank into her.

She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his pleasure in her, smiled as their bodies flowed together, and pressed her hands into his sweltering back as their breathing steadied. She let out a tiny sob when he pushed himself up and rolled onto his back, but she smiled again as he scooped her into his arms and drew her to his chest. He loved her. She could never doubt it again as long as she remembered the look in his eyes and the feeling of his steady strength encircling her.