Winter at the White Oaks Lodge (13 page)

“Hey,” he said. “I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry if I did.”

“I know,” I told him, allowing myself the pleasure of looking at his face one last time before I left. I felt a rush of pure, undiluted longing and curled my fingers into my palms, hidden within my wool mittens. But I was a mother, first and foremost, with no time for such thoughts. And Mathias had a girlfriend and no guy in his right mind wanted to date a girl with a baby.

“I will drive you home,” he said.

“It's not far,” I told him. “But thanks. Truly.”

“Drive safe then,” he said quietly and in his voice was something that made my heart stutter again.

Mathias
.

I knew I would replay this moment, those words, over and over as I lay in the darkness of my bed, letting my child nurse herself back to sleep.

“Good-night,” I told him, and then hurried out into the snowy night.

***

The next
day was Sunday and I woke to hear and smell Grandma and Aunt Ellen in the kitchen making banana pancakes, their winter Sunday specialty. I rolled towards Millie's side of the bed (she still slept best tucked in next to me) and found her absent, surely already downstairs sneaking batter from the bowl. I reflected that I was pretty damn fortunate to have my grandma and my great aunt constantly available to entertain and care for my child, especially when I was sleeping in late.

I showered and dressed in cozy, baggy sweats, my warmest slippers and left my hair to air-dry, meaning it would be tangled with curls in about a half hour, but I really didn't care. I had just started down the steps when I caught a glimpse of something out the front windows that stalled my feet completely and caused my heart to convulse in my chest. I hugged myself around the middle, experiencing a surging rush of anticipation and wonder and joy. Pure joy, before I squelched all of these things, with real effort. There was a logical explanation: it could be Bull, stopping out here for some reason. I watched silently, a wild fluttering all through my body, as the Carters' big plow pickup drove slowly up to the house and then Mathias climbed out.

It's him, it's him, it's him,
my heart sang.

“What in the world?” I heard Grandma asking from the kitchen, and I raced back upstairs to throw on jeans and a pretty sweater, finger-combing my hair frantically as Grandma answered the door.

“Good morning!” Mathias said cheerfully, and just the sound of his voice made my heart throw itself against my ribs, as though encouraging me to run downstairs and into his arms. “Is Camille awake yet?”

“Come in,” Grandma invited. “I heard the shower, so I'd say that yes, she is awake.”

I tried my best to appear unaffected as I descended the stairs. Mathias looked up at me and grinned, which did things to my insides. Wonderful, melting things. He was dressed as though to go ice-fishing, which was probably exactly where he was bound. Still wearing his gray wool hat and all his winter gear, he said to me, “Morning. I was hoping to steal you away for the day.”

You were?! Yes, steal me away, oh my God.

“Who's here?” Millie Jo yelled, running from the kitchen in her footie pajamas. Aunt Ellen was behind her, carrying a cup of coffee.

“Hi, Millie,” Mathias said, redirecting his gaze to smile at her. He asked, “Does your mama like to ice fish?”

“Eeeeew,
no
,” my daughter informed. “Gross. Dodge said you gotta stick a hook frew a worm.”

Everyone laughed then and I realized I couldn't hide out up here on the stairs. As I came closer, Mathias looked back at me and there was such a beat of intensity between us that I shivered. He said, “I didn't mean to just show up. I mean, I could have called, but I don't have your number…”

“Would you like some coffee?” Aunt Ellen asked, and I sensed more than saw her smile as her eyes moved between Mathias and me.

“Thank you, but I've got a huge thermos in the truck,” he said. “I also have a box of scones that Ma made this morning. Camille,” and my name on his lips was so lovely, “you forgot your scarf last night and then I realized that I wouldn't be able to give it to you tonight, since you don't work. And then I thought I would drop it off for you and then I wondered if you might want to join me in the ice shack today. Do you guys have plans? I knew I should have called…”

He was actually babbling a little, as though with nerves, and I marveled that someone as gorgeous as him could possibly be capable of such. My heart, already glowing with warmth, heated even further at this realization. I interrupted him to say, “If you give me a minute, I'd be happy to join you.”

He grinned again, a burst of sunshine. God, did he realize what it did to me to have that grin directed my way? I smiled back and then addressed my daughter, saying, “Millie Jo-Jo, will you mind if I leave for awhile today?”

“Mama, Rae is coming to play today!” she blasted, putting her hands on her hips and turning side to side. She added, “Don't you 'member?”

“You go and have fun, hon,” Grandma said, and in her voice were ten thousand questions that I knew she was dying to ask me, but it would have to wait until later.

“Dress warm,” Mathias told me.

“Really?” I asked sarcastically, teasing him, as I hurried back upstairs to don my thermal underwear (a long-sleeved shirt and what amounted to thick tights, both made from a heavy waffle-weave material) before tugging on jeans, my warmest sweater and two pairs of socks. Feeling like a snowman, I was back downstairs in less than five minutes.

Millie Jo was busy telling Mathias what she wanted for Christmas and he was listening attentively; I reflected that he had a number of nieces, as Tina, Elaine and Glenna all had daughters, and so he was obviously used to kids. He was also munching a rolled-up banana pancake. I smiled at them and then grabbed my coat from the closet, my hat and mittens. Millie had just about run out of ideas for presents as I stood on one foot to put on my boot.

“Mama, will you be home for lunch?” she asked, coming to pat my cheeks as I bent forward.

“I'll be home in time for dinner, more likely,” I told her, catching her into a hug. “You have fun with Rae today.”

“Stay warm,” Grandma said. She asked Mathias, “Another pancake?”

“I better not,” he said. “But thanks. Oh, here's your scarf.”

He was wearing it draped around his own neck, and my heart panged hard to see this; I accepted it from him and then he held the door for me. I waved bye to Millie, who ran to peek out the front window. She blew me a kiss and I blew one back, and then Mathias moved ahead of me to open the passenger door; the plow pickup was a huge diesel, issuing a muted growling as I climbed inside and onto the bench seat. The small backseat was loaded with gear. He hurried around the hood, grinning as he joined me.

The cab of the truck was toasty warm and smelled like him, indefinably delicious. I couldn't believe that here I sat, a mere two feet from him as he put the truck into gear and backed out of our long driveway. The day was a brilliant, glittering white, as so many of the winter days were, and Mathias pulled on a pair of sunglasses. It was lightly snowing, the pines already frosted thickly with snow. The drifts on the edges of the roadside were almost taller than me.

“What about Tess?” I asked before we'd even cleared the parking lot. I had to ask.

He looked over at me immediately and removed his sunglasses. He said, “We dated in high school. When she heard I was moving home, she called me. More than once. She's been…” he paused and I sensed his desire to put things delicately, “She's been wanting to…get back together.”

Probably what he meant was:
wanting to screw my brains out
, but there wasn't a polite way to express that sentiment. I said, “I know it's not my business. But I wondered. I don't want her finding out I was hanging out with you and then coming after me or something.” I meant this as a joke, but he didn't laugh.

Slipping his sunglasses back into place, he said quietly, “I'm just so glad you agreed to join me. This morning when I realized I wouldn't see you until next weekend…I just…it just seemed like…” he stumbled to a halt.

“I'm glad too,” I said, thrilling at his words. “Truly. But I've never ice fished. What's it like?”

“Have you ever fished in the regular season?” he asked, meaning summertime.

“Yes.”

“Then just picture doing the same thing while sitting around a hole about a foot in diameter. It's freezing and your fingers get numb when you land a catch.”

I giggled, saying, “That sounds great.”

He grinned over at me; because I was on his right, I could peek over and study his dimple to my heart's content. He said, “It's more of an excuse to hang out and drink and bullshit.”

“No kidding? I never would have guessed,” I teased and he laughed too.

“You also forgot the picture of Malcolm Carter and Aces. Isn't that a great name for a horse? And his letter. What do you suppose he spilled on it back when?”

“Not coffee. Water, probably. And it cuts off right where you're just dying to know more. But then, I've always loved a good mystery.”

“Elaine told me that you want to teach history,” he said then.

“I used to,” I said, letting my gaze move out the passenger window for a moment.

“Not anymore?”

“Well, it's a little more difficult now,” I allowed, though not in a snotty way. “I mean, I have a lot of other responsibilities.”

“Still, don't give up on it,” he said.

“Easy for you to say,” I said, and I hadn't intended to sound so bitchy. I said instantly, “Sorry, I don't mean to—”

“Don't apologize,” he interrupted. “I mean, don't feel like you have to. You're right, it's easy for me to say. I don't mean to be presumptuous.”

I shook my head, pulling off my mittens and setting them between us on the seat; it was broiling in the cab.

“Hey, are you hungry? I have all those scones…they're in the tote behind us…”

“I'll get it,” I said, turning to lean over the front seat. “Here. So, you're living at home for now?” I unzipped the tote and pulled out a Tupperware, opening this to reveal a pile of glazed pastry. “Oh, yum.”

“Here, pass me one, will you?” he asked and so I did; he used his teeth to yank off the glove on his right hand, keeping his other on the wheel, and our fingers brushed as I handed him a scone. I tried to keep breathing normally, taking one for myself and cupping a hand to catch the crumbs as I ate.

“Yeah, I'm living with Mom and Dad. I've only been home a week now, but my plan is to move in with Skid Erickson. He rents a room in Pine Ridge, you know, over by Farmer's Market?” He meant the little apartments over by the co-op in town, and I nodded. He continued, “Skid and I are going to start up a business. Plowing and de-icing for now. I know Dad wants me to take over White Oaks eventually, but I want to try and do something on my own first.”

We had reached the boat landing, directly across Flickertail from Shore Leave. There were about twenty vehicles hunkered like freezing animals and the fishing shacks out towards the middle of the lake were cheerful in a variety of colors under the bright white sky. Men and boys, mostly, a few dogs here and there, made the little frozen community resemble an active anthill from this far away. Mathias parked and collected the tote and another duffle bag, patched with duct tape.

“Let me come and get your door, it's kind of a bitch,” he said, and I smiled at this. He smiled instantly back and I tried to stamp out the shiver that rippled all along my limbs. I watched him round the hood with my entire body palpitating; he cranked open the squeaky door and then took my elbow unceremoniously into his gloved hand to help me down.

“Thanks,” I said. I could see my reflection in his sunglasses but imagined the blue of his eyes behind them. His lips were somber, so beautiful with their cupid's bow and his bottom lip that was slightly, sensuously fuller than the upper. I swallowed hard and asked, my voice with just the slightest tremble, “Can I carry something for you?”

He shook his head, shouldering the duffle and shifting the tote to his right hand. I wanted to catch his free hand into mine and hold it, but was way too chicken. Besides, this was not exactly a date. We were hanging out, the way friends would.

“Now, it's slippery as shit out here,” he warned. “You've got the right kind of boots, that's good. And the ice is thick, so there's no fault lines or anything. Our ice shack is on Snowflake Street.”

We navigated the snowy bank, Mathias buffering my elbow with his hand, only lightly touching me, but I felt the heat of it through all the layers of our winter clothes. I giggled and repeated, “Snowflake Street?”

“There are bona-fide streets out here, yes,” he said, smiling too. “It's a little town on the lake. Isn't that the title of one of the
Little House on the Prairie
books?”

“You know those books?”

He angled me a look and reminded, “Sisters. All sisters.”

“Right. And no, it's
By the Shores of Silver Lake
.”

“We used to go to the Laura Ingalls Wilder festival, way down in southern Minnesota,” he said. “Mom loved the show, especially.”

“Me, too. It reminds me of being a little kid.”

We were on the ice now, and he ordered, almost business-like, “Here, you better take my arm.”

I tucked my hand beneath his elbow, again with a sense of heat that came from his skin and right into mine. He was solid and strong and I recalled the dark-blue thermal shirt he had been wearing Friday morning, the one that showcased each dip and definition along his powerful arms. I accepted this excuse to touch him as a little gift from the universe. Would people think we were a couple? I peeked up at him to find him peeking down at me and we both smiled and looked instantly apart; was his heart thrashing his chest too? Was his blood hot and fierce in his veins?