Warm Winter Love (9 page)

“Hey, Katie-Katie!”

Hearing Sam’s voice, she turned and saw him laughing and motioning off to the distance. “Katie, my love,” he shouted, “you’ve been away again.” He spread his arms to encompass the entire view. “Look at it. Remember it. We should have taken a camera with us.”

How could she ever forget this moment? It would be impossible. She would always treasure it. No matter what happened throughout her life, it was something she couldn’t and wouldn’t ever forget. She would always remember this place and time…and especially Sam. If only she had met him earlier. She swallowed hard, hoping to rid herself of the pain that seemed to be crushing her heart.

“New tracks to be made, Katie!” Sam yelled as the lift came to a lurching halt. “Come on.” He guided her to the back of the mountain. “This is the best run. It’s the one that takes your breath away. Literally.” He laughed. “This is the one you have to try. It’s exciting and dangerous and conquerable.” She shivered as he described it. “And how you can stay at Cedar Crest and never attempt this run, I can’t imagine.”

As he grinned at her, she forced herself to smile. One more thing to know and love and like about him—his enthusiasm, his zest for life even when he was troubled.

She stood poised at the top of the peak, looking down at the scene he indicated, and she caught her breath at its magnificence. She had never been on this far side of Devil’s Mist and she pushed her poles into the snow in order to stay absolutely still and look at it in its entire splendor. From where she stood, it was a long, steep run to the base of the mountain, and it was punctuated by large stands of firs and cedars. The trees stood tall and formidable in their places, giving shelter and protection in snowstorms, but quietly warning bewitched skiers to stay clear of their domain.

The terrain was tricky and deceptive and to a novice it would look like a fairly straight run. But the experienced skier would recognize that scattered over the mountainside, in addition to the trees, were large formations of rock. Half hidden by the deep snow, they jutted up from the earth and shimmered and glinted in the cold sunlight.

She blinked her eyes and adjusted her sunglasses to compensate for the extraordinary brightness. The absolute whiteness of the snow and the gleaming, brilliant crystals over the entire mountain had become yet another photograph in her mind. There were so many memories to take back with her, so many bittersweet memories to recall through the years.

“Well, what do you think?” Sam touched her elbow. “Ready to try it?”

She shook her head. “Not yet, Sam. I’m just looking at it. Wondering.” She blew into the frigid air and saw puffs of vapor in front of her face.

“Don’t wonder, Katie. Do it. I’ll go down first if you want me to and I’ll stop halfway and wait for you.”

She shook her head again. “I need a few more minutes.”

“Katie, some days you just have to go ahead and do it!” Sam’s voice was gentle yet urgent. “Sometimes, you just have to go ahead and do something without thinking of all the consequences. You have to jump in and participate. You can’t stand back and wait, Katie, because sometimes. . .” His voice grew fainter so that she had to strain to hear him. “Because sometimes you lose everything if you hesitate too long.”

She knew that he was angry and impatient and hurt by her reluctance. She moved closer to the edge of the run and took another deep breath, planning how she would take the trail. If she traversed the slope and angled all the way to the base of the mountain, then she shouldn’t encounter any difficulty. She would have to watch out for the trees, though. She looked at the cedars and tried to gauge the distance of the branches that overhung the trail. Though tricky, it really shouldn’t be that difficult. She had the competence that came of having been on skis for almost all her life.

She took another deep breath as a gust of wind blew frozen flakes across her goggles and she waited while the air calmed. She knew that Sam was watching her, waiting for her to make her move, and she inched a step closer to the edge so that she was now in position. She looked down the slope—no one was in sight—and suddenly another blast of wind swept first through the cedars and then up the incline.

Just go down it, Katie
, she told herself.
Just pretend it’s Magic Mountain
. She paused to brush away the snow from her face and then slowly shook her head. It was no use. She couldn’t do it. Her body was rigid and her feet suddenly felt leaden, rooted to the earth as though they were foreign objects that refused to obey her orders. She tried to flex her arms, but again her extremities wouldn’t comply. Her hands were clenched tightly around the ski poles and she could feel the moisture trapped on her palms by her nylon mitts. No, today wasn’t the day she would conquer Devil’s Mist. It had won again!

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said simply. “I just can’t do it. I don’t know why.” She waved her hands helplessly. “It just seems so… so…”

“Fearful, Katie. Fearful.” He reached out to her and held her so that she felt comforted by both his warmth and his tenderness. “It’s okay. Sometimes there are things we just can’t do yet. No matter what.” He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her scarf a gentle twist. “We still have a couple of days. We’ll try again some other time.”

She shook her head, angry at herself. Some things, whether mastering Devil’s Mist or telling Sam she loved him, were just too difficult. Maybe some things weren’t meant to be!

Chapter Nine

“Today, Katie,” Sam said after breakfast, “I’m going to give you what I call breathing room. I told you I was going to treat you like a priority client, and I am, and this is what I do after I make my initial presentation. I give the client time to think, to weigh all the options, to get all the questions ready. And it gives me time to gather more ammunition to counter the questions and the doubts.” He grinned at her, and she caught her breath at the simple gesture. “Yes, ma’am, you’re my number-one client—and my only one—this week.” He took her hand. “I’ve given you all the reasons for us to be together and to spend the rest of our lives with each other and I really don’t have anything else to offer.” He spread his hands wide and stepped back so that she could see him in full view. “Look at me, Katie-Katie. What you see is what you get.” She wanted to tell him that she liked—loved—what she saw, and that if their timing had been right, she wouldn’t hesitate. But Jason had been there first and Jason was steady and would always be home. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t like Jason. How could she be sure that this wasn’t just a fleeting romance? She recounted to herself all the reasons for her decision to stay with Jason. But she had to admit, looking at Sam’s impish smile, that there was a time bomb in her head, and it kept reminding her that perhaps she was making a mistake, was really just settling for something safe and secure. She remembered a story she had once read about a person who had to detonate an explosive. One false move and the whole cruise ship would blow up. That’s how she felt about Sam and Jason. One false move on her part and she would give in to her emotions and tell Sam that she wanted and needed him. But as long as she took things slowly, like an expert defusing a bomb, then nothing would go wrong or could go wrong.

“You’re away again, Katie,” she heard him say through her thoughts.

She blinked. “Sorry. I told you it was a habit.”

“That’s your one permitted escape, isn’t it?” he said. He put a finger to her lips to silence a response. “No, don’t answer that—erase it. I promised nothing heavy today and I meant it. Tell you what—let’s go to the souvenir shop again. I’ve got to get something.” He looked out the window at the lines already formed for Magic Mountain. “There are too many people there already. We’ll hit it when they slack off for lunch.”

It was almost deserted in the shop and they browsed at the counters, picking up the little ornaments, playing with the windup toys, squeezing the plush animals with whistles in their stomachs, and reading the children’s books. They were being silly, she knew, but it was the fun of it that she enjoyed. It was as if she had been set free; she could say or do anything and Sam would understand. She was beginning to learn that it was part of his nature to want to have fun, to want to do things spontaneously, and to want to include other people in his circle of joy.

“Look at this, Katie,” he said, dangling a pull-toy train. “Did you ever have a set of trains?” When she shook her head, he continued, “No, that’s what I thought. You were a traditional girl, with dolls and…”

“… cutouts and skates,” she cut him off, finishing for him. She laughed. “I had only what you would call ‘all-girl stuff.’ ”

“Uh-uh, Katie. No way. Every kid had skates.” He put the toy back on the counter. “Unisex things don’t count—bubble pipes, board games, jigsaw puzzles.”

“I still do puzzles. I have one on my dining room table right now. I go back to it every once in a while.” She put her hand to her mouth and sighed. It was another reminder—Sam wouldn’t have jigsaw puzzles on his dining room table. He was too busy traveling and didn’t really have a home base to return to every day. He’d never get back to them except on weekends, if he were lucky. It was another indication that he wasn’t for her. So many signs told her that he wasn’t for her, that Jason was much more like her. All these reminders kept cropping up at the wrong times and places. It probably would be like this all her life if she chose Sam.

He didn’t notice the change in her mood and he walked around the store, picking up toys and scented soaps and games. She watched him as sunlight, streaming through the window, gilded his hair and parka as he bent forward to inspect a glass figurine. He grinned as he looked at the base and said:

“I saw the same thing in Italy. That’s where this was made. You get to see the same things in all the countries, Katie. Makes you realize how small the world really is.”

But the world really isn’t that small, Sam,
she wanted to say.
Certainly it’s not small enough to accommodate both our plans.

She trailed her hands over several wooden carvings and suddenly realized that she was at the counter where she had met him just a few days ago, and that the tinkling sounds that filled the area were coming from several music boxes. Unable to resist them, she turned their keys so that the music coming from all the boxes at once mingled in a cacophony of different tempos and melodies. She stood there, enchanted, until they finally ran down.

She picked up a miniature musical china clock and marveled at the intricate, delicate cream-and-pink roses. She fingered the raised petals and closed her eyes as she tried to recall an image from another time. The pattern of the flowers and the pastel colors were reminiscent of something, a picture frame or a piece of ribbon she had once owned. But she shook her head and gave up; it was too long ago to remember, and she let the memory slip from her mind. Another reminder, maybe, of her and Sam. Perhaps, one day, he would slip from her mind too.

She held the clock in her hand, wondering about its melody, and, unable to resist, wound it up and waited for its tune. She recognized it instantly—“Un Bel Di” from
Madame Butterfly
—and she recalled that the senior music class had performed it at an evening assembly at the end of last year. She hummed the familiar aria as she replaced the clock on the counter, thinking that Jason had been sitting next to her at that assembly and that it was about then that they began to talk about getting married. After the program, she recalled, while walking to his car, they had spoken to some of the students. The kids had stared at them and she could tell that they were wondering if Mr. King and Ms. Jarvis were going together. They had both laughed at the students’ whispering.

“Might as well do it, Katie,” Jason had said in the car. “The kids think we’re an item, so I guess we are.” He had held her hand. “How does that suit you, Katie?” he asked, and she said that it was fine with her. And that’s how it began and was and how it progressed until they came up with August as a month. It wasn’t really any big deal and nothing to really get excited about, although her mother had said, “Why wait?” Now she wondered why she did keep postponing picking a date. Why she took her time. If she had gotten married sooner, there would have been no vacation in March… no Sam… and no confusion.

She looked at the clock and was surprised to see that while the notes played, a tiny gilt-edged second hand circled the face of the clock quickly, so that it appeared to be counting down the hours. For a moment she was spellbound by the idea—until she realized that the miniature hand was also counting down her time with Sam.

She stared at the spinning dial. The combination of the poignant music and the reminder of the rapid passage of time was much too over-whelming for her and she again felt the bitter lump form in her throat. She swallowed back a sob and looked up at the ceiling of the store, at its old-fashioned light fixture and fan, trying hard to concentrate on them, hoping that by doing so her tears would be absorbed back into her eyes and not betray her emotions. But it wasn’t to be and she wiped her face with her hand. As the clock wound down, she felt that with every prolonged note, the aria was reminding her of her choices.

Sam came over to her and wordlessly handed her a handkerchief.

“Oh, Sam,” she said, “I have to go back, I can’t stay here.” She ran to the door of the shop. “Please don’t follow me. Please let me be alone for now,” she pleaded. She looked at the handkerchief and saw her pink lipstick on it and she crumpled it into a ball and shoved it into her pocket. “This isn’t fair!” she cried. “This isn’t fair to either of us.”