Snowbound (9 page)

He felt sick.

This wide enough? Dieter asked.

John pretended to study the path. Looks fine. When you get to the woodpile, well all bring in some wood for the night.

Yeah, sure. He looked past John. What happened to the girls? Did they wimp out?

Without boots, their feet were getting cold. He sounded normal. Sane, he congratulated himself.

Still wimps. Dieter tromped away.

John turned to watch Fiona and the two girls, three abreast, pushing forward through shoulder-high snow and then stamping on what collapsed around them. The girls in particular were giggling madly, and they looked like the women hed seen in a movie trampling grapes for wine.

Fionas laugh floated to his ears, lower-pitched than
the girlss, a little husky. A womans laugh. But she stomped with all the enthusiasm of the two girls, her arm linked with one of them.

His stomach churned again. Would she think he was crazy?

How could she not? Hed thought insurgents were shooting at them and hed knocked her to the ground. He wanted to lie to himself and call it a life-saving instinct that had to be retrained: the bang of a mortar, the crack of a rifle, you hit the deck. Returning soldiers from every war in the last century and in this one had the same instinct, one that he assumed dulled with time and then was forgotten.

But it hadnt been just instinct. For a minute, hed been half there in Iraq, half here in Oregon. Hed known snow was around them rather than sand. Hed known it was Fiona he was throwing his body over. But the boys had suddenly worn camouflage, and the bloodThe blood had been as real as his would be if he cut himself open right now. He could still close his eyes and see the moment, a snapshot to join the album full of others he carried in his head.

Hoppers face, mouth open in a soundless cry of alarm as he tried to run toward them. The jerk as the round entered his body, the spurt of blood, the fall.

How the hell could he have made it so real? John asked himself. It wasnt just a memory, it wasa hybrid. As if hed done a computer search, he came up with the right image, frozen in his brain.

Hes in a Humvee, looking up a street in some shithole of a town. Three M-16 toting soldiers ahead,
not being careful because why should they? This town is ours. Theyre joking, shoving. One turns to share the joke when he sees something. He lifts his weapon and his mouth opens. Shouting a warning? Crack. His blood spurts, a fountain that says an artery has been hit.

His shock at dying like that, the fact that he
knew
he was dying, kept his face vivid in Johns memory. What sickened him most then and now was how young the boy was. Eighteen? Nineteen?

Rat-a-tat-tat.
Theyd answered fire with fire, and an Iraqi tumbled in grotesque slow-motion from a rooftop where he had been crouched. As dead as the young National Guardsman who now sprawled in the street, blood staining the packed earth.

There it was, simple. Images superimposing. He had an explanation that still added up to crazy. Cant tell then from now. Counseling. Medications.

John seemed to hear a reassuring voice. Hed be fine if he took his pills and bared his soul upon request to a psychologist and in group sessions. The anger choked him now as it had then. He didnt want to remember. He needed to do some old-fashioned grieving, needed to adapt to an everyday reality that now seemed as bizarre as the one hed just left. Returning Civil War veterans hadnt had serotonin uptake inhibitors. Theyd just gone back to their farms, spent time outside staring at the spangled night sky, letting earth that wasnt bloodstained sift through their hands. John wasnt a farmer, but the lodge had been working for him. What was wrong with that?

Fiona and the two remaining girls went in at last,
their path having reached the shed although he could see theyd have to do some shoveling to get the doors open.

John carried in armfuls of wood with the boys, filling the bin on one side of the fireplace and forming stacks on the hearth as well. Unable to bear the laughter and high, excited voices as they all struggled out of winter gear in front of the fire, he went back out alone to stow the snow shovels, then stood for a minute gazing at the woods leading down to the creek.

What would happen to the deer, with the snow so high on the ground? Would they be able to find anything to eat? If they were smart, theyd stay deep under the trees where the snow hadnt been able to pile up. But there theyd be reduced to eating bark from the trunks of firs and cedar. Maybe it was a good thing that this storm had hit so early in the winter, while the wild animals still carried the weight theyd gained through the warm summer and mild autumn.

He turned and went in, glad not to see Fiona. Alone in his own small apartment, he took a long, hot bath, sinking under to release some of the tension gathered in his neck and shoulders. He dressed, towel-dried his hair and went to the kitchen to consider lunch and dinner menus.

Some kind of stir-fry for dinner, he decided. Hed take chicken out to thaw. He had bags of vegetables in the freezer, and enough rice to keep them from starving damn near all winter long. It would be quick and easy, not requiring any help.

For lunch

He stiffened when he heard the door swing open behind him. Without turning, he knew Fiona had come
in. Erin and Willow were the only other two who sometimes entered a room quietly. But they were less likely to track him down. Besides, his nose caught the scent of gardenias, which meant shed taken another bath with one of the pearlescent beads.

Thinking about lunch or dinner? she asked.

Dinner at the moment. He faced her, careful to keep his face expressionless. I have frozen vegetables to make stir-fry. Well have sandwiches for lunch.

You shouldnt have to cook all our meals.

I prefer to stay busy.

Oh. She bit her lip. Can I help?

She was having trouble meeting his eyes. Was she
scared
of him?

Clear the air.
I hope I didnt give you bruises.

She let out an unconvincing laugh. I deserve some, after throwing myself off the porch.

I knocked you down hard. Im sorry.

To his eyes, she was so beautiful right now he ached with it. Her cheeks were rosy, perhaps from the bath. Her hair was caught up on top of her head, but wisps curled around her face. Shed changed into a flannel shirthisthe sleeves rolled half a dozen times, several buttons undone to expose her long, pale throat and delicate collarbone. Her eyes were uncertain, shying from his, the color seemingly having darkened.

You didnt hurt me. I was juststartled.

Im glad, he said, and meant it.

She bit her lip, nodded and took a step back, as if to leave the kitchen. Then she stopped, and he braced himself.

Does it happen often? I mean, flashbacks?

No. Not like that. I duck when a garbage truck clangs, but so do most vets at first.

Her eyes, perplexed, met his at last. Then why?

There was an incident He cleared his throat. He didnt like talking about the war at all, but he owed her an explanation. Three soldiers. Something about the way the boys arranged themselves today, their voices He stopped, found himself hunching his shoulders. When Hopper turned back and then fell just as that branch snappedIt was so familiar. I wasnt in Iraq. I knew there was snow on the ground, and that it was you I was throwing down.

Protecting, she said softly.

But for a minute I saw blood. I thought two of the boys had gone down. Feeling incredibly awkward, he studied the grain of wood in the plank floor. It was brief, but vivid.

Youve had things like this happen before, havent you? Thats why you moved up here.

He lifted his head and glared at her. You think I walk around hallucinating? Youre wrong. This was an isolated incident. War messes with your head. It takes time to clear it.

Puckers between her eyebrows showed that she was still troubled as she studied him, but after a minute she nodded. My father was in Vietnam. To this day he hates the Fourth of July.

Yeah, that would be even worse for Vietnam vets. We didnt have to deal with constant shelling.

What was the worst part? she asked.

Being asked to talk about it made him feel as if his ribs were being compressed. He shifted, told himself he was getting enough air.

What was a short answer shed accept? One that didnt say, watching kids youve befriended get blown up?

The fact that youre not fighting soldiers. Theres no theater of operations. Theres no behind the lines where you can kick back and not worry about dying. Its like Vietnam in that sense. Every car driving up to a checkpoint can be full of guys toting AK rifles. Or it might have a family in it, little kids in the back. Road blocks are a nightmare. Everyone over there drives at breakneck speed. Is a car barreling toward you because thats the way this guy drives all the time, or because hes a suicide bomber? That house with kids playing in front of it might be the meeting place for a bunch of insurgents. You cant assume its safe because of the kids. He tried to figure out how to make her understand. Violence can happen anywhere. Anytime. So you never relax.

She nodded. So after a while you look at all Iraqis as enemies and none as a friend.

Not him. Foolishly optimistic, he had tried to make friends with the people, to build a bridge between the Americans and the locals. He wasnt going to tell her about how that bridge was detonated, any more than he had told a single other soul since he was shipped home on crutches.

The six-month deployments are smart. Knowing youre getting to go home Hands miraculously
steady, he took out a cutting board and knife. Trouble is, going back the second time would be harder.

Alarm flared on her face. You wont be deployed again?

Ive been discharged, he said unemotionally. Id be a liability now with this leg.

Oh. Her voice was just above a whisper. Im glad.

His throat felt thick. He couldnt say anything.

I can tell you dont like talking about it. Butthank you for explaining. The look on your face today She shivered, seemingly unaware that she hugged herself.

Im sorry I scared you. The apology felt and sounded inadequate to him, but he didnt know what he could add.

Generous woman that she was, Fiona offered him a smile that looked untainted by anything hed said or done. Not to worry. Now, come on, admit it. Surely you can use some help feeding the crowd.

She wanted to stay here in the kitchen, with him? Stunned, John said, Youre a glutton for punishment.

Now the smile became merry. No, if I were a glutton for punishment, Id be in the great room with eight teenagers. Instead Im hiding out in the kitchen with you. At least, Id
like
to hide out in the kitchen with you. If youll give me an excuse.

He didnt know when hed felt luckier than he did right now, realizing that Fiona MacPherson was giving him a second chance.

You might collect wet clothes and start a load of laundry. Then you can help me with lunch.

Oh, good. She sounded buoyant, as though he had
relieved her mind in some way. I can at least pretend Im being useful. She headed for the swinging door, pushed it open and gave him a last bright smile over her shoulder. I shall return, she promised.

For the first time, he wondered if, once the road was plowed and the van back on it, Fiona would think about coming back. Just her. If he asked.

Oh, yeah,
his inner voice scoffed.
Just what shed want: to be alone in the lodge with the guy whod thought terrorists were shooting from the woods today.

But shed seemed to buy his explanation. And a couple of times these last two days, when hed looked at her and the air seemed to leave the room, hed have sworn she couldnt breathe, either.

He looked at the pile of frozen chicken breasts hed brought out and wondered what he was supposed to do with it.

Refrigerator. Oh, yeah. That was it.

As for Fiona, she wouldnt be escaping Thunder Mountain Lodge tonight, and maybe, if he was lucky, not tomorrow. So he had time towell, hint. See if she was interested, unlikely though that possibility seemed.

F
IONA NOTICED
that John sat at the opposite end of the table from the boys at dinner and ate quickly, his head down. Trying to pretend to herself that she wasnt conscious of him every single second, she was left to referee the far-ranging discussion and squabbles.

Dieter admitted to likingappropriately enougha musical group called Snow Patrol.

You like alternative? Troy sneered. What, do you listen to Modest Mouse, too?

Dieter was unperturbed. Yeah, and theyre brilliant.

This called for taking a poll of musical tastes, always a delicate matter as it exposed rifts in their world views. Eminem and Hilary Duff might both top the charts but did not otherwise pull up their chairs to the same table. Only Willows youth saved her from being savaged by her admission that Hilary Duff and Aly and AJ were her favorite artists.

Oh, and Ashlee Simpson, she added.

Troy opened his mouth.

Fiona interjected, To each his own. I like Ben Folds.

Yay, teach! Dieter cheered. Hes awesome.

Troy turned his incredulous stare from the more
vulnerable Willow to someone who could stand his own ground.

What, are you like some twenty-three-year-old computer geek?

No, then Id like techno, and I dont.

Fiona let them bicker, so long as they left Willow out of it.

She stole a surreptitious look down at the table. What kind of music did John like? What kind of movies? Books? Was he fan of any professional sports? Given how much she did know about him, it was startling to realize how much she didnt.

She wished shed known him before he went to war. Had he smiled easily? Laughed? Or had he always been closemouthed, perhaps even a loner?

Why, she wondered, were some people more traumatized by war than others? Was it what theyd experienced? What theyd seen orworse yetwhat theyd had to do? Or did personality predetermine who would suffer from PTSD? Now that hed made her curious, she would have to find a book on the subject once she got home.

Dieter, Amy and Erin, youre the cleanup crew tonight, she said, picking the names almost at randomexcept that she always tried to team Amy up with kids whod keep her on task.

Shed enjoyed teaching at Willamette Prep in part because she didnt have to use the well-motivated pupils to propel the rest forward. In a school where students were accepted on academic merit, the kids were pretty uniformly motivated and college-bound. Amy, however,
was proving surprisingly deft at evading work. Fiona was beginning to wonder whether she was the same with her schoolwork. And if so, how was it that she consistently turned in essays and papers that lifted her grades above the results of midterm and final exams?

And, oh, how Fiona hated to have such a suspicious mind.

After dinner, she had the kids bring the remaining soggy clothes down, and she folded laundry, moved a load to the dryer and started yet another.

Thank goodness for multiple hot water tanks! she thought, passing back through the kitchen to see Amy and Dieter unloading and drying dishes from the commercial dishwasher while Erin rinsed off plates and placed them in a rack in preparation for starting it again.

They had all proclaimed the dishwasher, which did a load in under two minutes, major cool. The fact that they had to dry dishes rather than leave racks to air-dry on the counter had dimmed its appeal.

Anyone know where John is? she asked casually.

Who? Amy asked. Oh. Him.

I think he went that way. Erin nodded toward the great room.

Surprised he hadnt shut himself in his apartment, Fiona followed. Not because she necessarily wanted to spend time with himafter what happened today, she wasnt so sure that was a good ideabut because she ought to check on the rest of her students.

Kelli and Tabitha were nowhere to be seen, but Willow sat curled in one of the armchairs watching the boys bouncing a hacky-sack between them, using heads
and knees. John was just tossing a piece of wood in on the fire, creating a burst of sparks.

Hey, Mr. Fallon, Troy said, do you have a soccer ball?

He turned and stared at the boys, who were still keeping the hacky-sack in the air. No. His voice was guttural, the look on his face strained.

None of the kids noticed. Fiona started toward him. He walked past her as if oblivious to her presence, unlocked the front door and went outside, closing it behind him. Determined, she followed.

He stood in the dark between bands of light that fell through the windows. His back was to her as he stared out at the night. Fiona didnt have to be able to see him well to know that he stood rigid, undoubtedly wishing to be alone.

Hesitatingperhaps she should have pretended not to notice that something in the exchange with the boys had upset himshe hugged herself against the bitter cold.

Are you all right? Her voice sounded as uncertain as she felt.

Yes. Go back in.

She bit her lip and took a step back toward the door. About to turn, she stopped. Why soccer?

For a moment, she thought he wasnt going to answer at all. He didnt move.

A shiver racked her.

I cant talk about it.

The words sounded torn from him. Painfully, leaving an open wound.

Are you sure? I dont mind listening, if you want to talk.

He wheeled toward her. But youre
not
listening, are you? I said,
I cant talk about it.

Stunned by the rage and pain raw in his voice, Fiona turned and blindly reached for the door latch.

God.
Im sorry. He reached her before she could lift the latch, turning her.

Without thinking of the illogic, the foolishness, she clumsily wrapped her arms around him as he did the same to her. They stood in the dark, John absorbing her shivers, doing nothing but holding her and saying, over and over again, Im sorry. Im so sorry.

Its okay, she mumbled against his chest. You were right, I
didnt
listen.

Youre the only person who has.

I knew you wanted to be alone.

He made an odd sound, almost a groan. No. I think I wanted you to follow me. Then when you didGod, he said again.

Youre not one of my students. I should mind my own business. But she didnt want to. And she sensed that John Fallon
needed
someone to intrude on his isolation.

Youre freezing. He tightened his arms.

No, she whispered. Youre warm.

Fiona?

She tilted her head back. Yes?

He kissed her, the mouth so often compressed in pain gentle on hers, asking, not demanding. His lips were cold for the first moment, then warmed. She sighed and parted hers.

This sound was definitely a groan. Between one instant and the next, the kiss changed from tentative to wild, hungry, frantic. One of his hands gripped her buttock and lifted her against him as his mouth ravaged hers. Her thoughts blurred, only one having definition:
this
was why shed followed him out onto the porch. Shed kept pushing so that he would kiss her.

He was the one to break it off. When he lifted his mouth from hers, Fiona sucked in a breath that shed forgotten she needed.

John sounded hoarse. The kidsll come looking for us.

The kids. Shed forgotten them. Oh Lord, she thought, stunned. If John had ripped off her clothes, she would have let him despite the cold, despite the teenagers just inside. What if Willow had opened the door and seen them fall apart in confusion and guilt?

Yes. She tried to pull herself together. Id better go back in.

Did she look as if shed just been passionately kissed? Or would the teenagers assume her cheeks were red from the cold?

What made her think theyd even look at her?

His hands fell away from her. Well both go in.

Yes. Okay. Somehow her arms had come to be hanging at her sides. She sounded shell-shocked, then scrambled in her mind for another word. The irony was too great. She had no real idea what it was like to be shell-shocked. What she was, was overwhelmed, caught off guard. Jolted.

While he, she couldnt help noticing, now sounded remarkably calm.

Reaching around her, he lifted the latch and opened the massive door. His other hand on her back, he urged her inside.

Without pausing in the hacky-sack game, Hopper asked, What were you guys doing outside? Its cold out there. Or didnt you notice?

We noticed, Fiona heard herself say. But how else can we get away from all of you?

Hopper laughed, as if she were a comic.

Hey, Kelli was looking for you. Troy headed the hacky-sack, forcing Hopper to lunge to catch it with his foot before it hit the floor.

Wasnt soccer popular in Iraq? Had something happened at a game there that John had seen?

She started to turn to him, but he was walking away toward the kitchen, his limp noticeable. Fiona felt inexplicably chilled.

For the kids benefit, she forced a smile. Ill go find her.

But she wouldnt follow John to the kitchen.

Fortunately Kelli was upstairs with Tabitha and had forgotten what she wanted.

No, I remember. I was hoping my jeans are in the dryer.

Uh Fiona was blank. I dont know. I was just throwing wet stuff in. Ill bet the load is dry by now. Would you two mind folding it? And putting the stuff in the washer into the dryer?

You okay, Ms. Mac? Tabitha asked.

She managed another smile. Im fine. But, you know, I think Ill take my book not the one about Iraq, shed find something else and go take a nice, hot bath.

You deserve it. Tabitha looked at her skeptically, which meant her smile hadnt been entirely convincing, but she didnt ask any more questions. We can fold the laundry. Right, Kelli?

Less enthusiastic, the other girl shrugged. Yeah, sure.

Fiona ended up skipping the book. Picking one out would have involved going downstairs, which might have meant encountering John or more unwanted curiosity from her students. She doubted shed have been able to pay attention to a plot anyway.

Instead she brooded as she soaked, reliving the kiss over and over. Now she knew what had been missing from every other kiss shed experienced. She knew why she was rarely interested in a second date, why her few longer-running relationships had, in the end, not endured.

But why, oh why, did she have to be so attracted to a man who, she was beginning to be afraid, was more damaged by the war than he was willing to admit?

Of course, distance was a problem, too, but she couldnt imagine him staying at Thunder Mountain forever. He didnt love the business of innkeeping, he wanted the solitude. And presumably once he decompressed, hed sell the lodge and move back to civilization. Perhaps even to Portland, where Robotronics was located.

Not that hed actually said a word to suggest he was interested in anything beyond a few kissesokay, beyond sexwith her.

She flushed at the idea. Of course she couldntWhat if one of the kids needed her? And she hadnt brought any protectionNo, that was silly; considering the huge variety of tampons and sanitary napkins hed produced, he surely had an equal assortment of condoms.

The truth was, she just didnt know him well enough. Shed met him only days ago! And considering shed had to extract each sliver of knowledge about him as if with tweezers from his flesh, with him flinching every time she tugged, Fiona thought she could be excused for feeling wary.

But then she reflected on how nice hed been to all of them, even the boys who seemed to stir his memories, and she realized she knew more about the John Fallon who tried to hide behind his self-constructed barriers than shed thought.

More, maybe. But enough?

She stirred, and water lapped at the porcelain sides of the tub.

Would rescue come tomorrow? she wondered. Did she want to go home yet?

Fiona got out of the tub well aware that she hadnt answered a single one of her questions.

She let the water out, dried and got dressed, deciding to leave her hair bundled up on her head, untidy though it was.

Tabitha, Kelli and Amy were lounging on their beds when she paused in their door.

Did you find your jeans?

Tabitha nodded. I miss my clothes. I may never wear this shirt and jeans again.

Fiona laughed. I know what you mean. Me, Im just going to be glad to have clean underwear at hand every morning.

Are you going downstairs? Amy slid off the bed. I think I will, too.

Yeah, lets all go, Kelli agreed.

They followed her, to find Erin reading and Willow giggling as the boys tried to teach her how to keep the hacky-sack in the air with one knee.

Like shes
really
that bad at it, Amy muttered.

Fiona had a suspicion she wasnt, either. Willow was blossoming.

Havent you ever played soccer, Willow? Amy asked, as they reached the foot of the stairs.

Dieter deftly caught the hacky-sack with his knee.

Willow shook her head. It looks fun.

It is, Tabitha said. You should come out for the girls team. If youre willing to work hard, you could play JV.

Hey, cool! Dieter grinned at her. I could teach you stuff.

Hopper made a rude noise. Like you know any stuff.

Dieter bounded on him, and they began to wrestle. The girls rolled their eyes.

Boys, Amy said, in a tone of supreme disenchantment.

Well, theres boys, and then theres
men,
Tabitha suggested.

Amy sneered.
I
dont see any.

Mr. Fallon.

But hes got Her hand flapped at the side of her face.

They all knew she was referring to his scar.

So what? Kelli said. Hes hot.

Yeah, he is, Tabitha agreed.

Willow gaped at them, and even the boys stopped wrestling.

Whos hot? Hopper asked in bewilderment.

Mr. Fallon. Tabitha gave Fiona a sly smile. Dont you think, Ms. Mac?

What if he overheard this conversation? Hed be hideously embarrassed!

On the other handmaybe it would be good for him to find out that even teenage girls had noticed he was sexy despite the scar. Or even because of it.

Hes an attractive man, she agreed sedately.