Winter Longing (14 page)
I downed both the popcorn and my Coke as I watched the rest of the game, getting better at tracking the puck as the minutes ticked by.
The biggest surprise didn’t come when Alex Mifflin scored a final goal to win the game with only three seconds left on the clock. No, it was when I jumped up and screamed with the rest of the crowd because it made me happy.
I considered how strange happiness felt to me now. It felt like I was indulging in something sinful, that I would pay for it later. I shoved these disturbing thoughts aside and prepared to walk home.
I spotted Jesse immediately, off to the side talking to Coach Jorgensen, and felt color rise in my face. I needed to get out of there, fast. I headed toward the exit.
“Hey, Winter.”
I stopped and took a deep breath before turning. Jesse approached, carrying his skates in one hand and his stick in the other.
“You made a game.”
“Yeah. I’ve been hearing such good things, thought I’d check it out. Congrats on the win.”
“Thanks.”
I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets to hide any evidence of shaking. “How you’re walking upright after the beating you took, I don’t know.”
He laughed. “Nothing a few bags of frozen peas won’t cure.”
“If I’d been hit by that Ooglichuk guy, I’d need an entire truckload of frozen peas. That or several new body parts.”
“I’ll admit that one hurt a little.”
I smirked at the understatement. “I better get home,” I said, then turned to head for the exit again.
“Winter.”
An odd, sizzly feeling went through me when he said my name. As long as I’d known him, I couldn’t remember ever hearing him say it in the way it sounded to me now. Deep, sexy, hopeful. What was that about? “Yeah?”
“Listen, my stepmom’s having a birthday party for me next weekend. It’s kind of lame, but it’s something she’s done for me ever since she married my dad. And Dad would rip off my head if I told her I was too old for it.” He shifted his weight to the other foot and spun his stick on its handle end. “I’d like you to come over . . . if you want, that is.”
Well, that was a first. Other than the annual Labor Day cookout, I didn’t think I’d been invited to one of Jesse’s parties. Still, I shrugged. “Sure.”
It was becoming obvious that I should stay away from him, at least until the strange feelings I was having dissipated. But I couldn’t seem to say no.
“Great! ” He smiled, and I felt the force of that smile like the sun emerging from thick, dark clouds. “I’ll see you then. Well, I’ll see you before then, at school. See ya.” He turned and hurried toward the locker room.
I just stared at his retreating form, trying to figure out why in the world Jesse had seemed nervous. Had hell frozen over, and everyone neglected to tell me?
I slowly turned to head outside and tried to ignore the buzz of excitement coursing through me.
“My grandmother invited me to spend the summer in Anchorage,” I said as Spencer, Lindsay, and I ate lunch at our usual cafeteria table.
Spencer lowered the french fry that was halfway to his mouth. “You’re not going, are you?”
Something about the way he asked the question, as if he couldn’t believe I’d even consider it, would have made up my mind for me if I hadn’t done so already. Did he want me to stay in Tundra as much as I wanted to see him every day? After all, it might be our last summer together.
“No.”
“Good.”
CHAPTER 18
Though
daylight was waning when I left the game, I took my time walking home. The restlessness was back, but now my time at the game and my conversation with Jesse had tossed a heap of confusion into the mix, too. Having a good time felt so foreign, as though I’d committed some moral crime. How could happiness coexist with the heartache that still often punched me?
daylight was waning when I left the game, I took my time walking home. The restlessness was back, but now my time at the game and my conversation with Jesse had tossed a heap of confusion into the mix, too. Having a good time felt so foreign, as though I’d committed some moral crime. How could happiness coexist with the heartache that still often punched me?
It seemed like half the town of Tundra had attended the game. I watched as little kids re-created plays with toy hockey sticks. Laughter filled the late-afternoon air.
“Great game, huh?” Chris Watson asked as he came up next to me and walked backward several steps.
“Yeah.”
He lifted his camera. “Think I got some good pictures. Gonna be a killer season.” He turned in obvious excitement and hurried toward the square, no doubt straight for the newspaper office.
I stopped and let the sounds of everyone’s conversations waft past me.
“Did you see the size of the Ooglichuk guy?”
“Our team hasn’t looked that good in ten years.”
“We’re going climbing next weekend. You want to go?”
Only a few weeks ago, these same people had attended the memorial service for Spencer, hugged and offered condolences to the Isaacs family. Now it seemed like Spencer’s death was becoming a distant memory for all of them. They were getting on with their lives, and I feared part of me—the same part that had forced me to eat in the days following the crash—wanted to do the same.
But how could I, when I still missed him so much? I couldn’t go to Jesse’s party, even if part of me wanted very much to move on like everyone else.
As I stepped onto the square, I noticed that the lights were on in Tundra Books. I considered going over there and even took a few steps that way as I tried to figure out what I’d say to Mr. and Mrs. Isaacs. Then I faltered. I bit my bottom lip and hugged myself.
I couldn’t do it. I still wasn’t strong enough. Instead, I changed direction and headed down the street toward home.
When my house came into view, I noticed Lindsay sitting on the front steps. “Hey,” I said as I approached within a few yards.
“Hey, yourself. I hear you went to the hockey game. That’s, uh, new.”
I stood on the smooth stones of the front walk and shoved my hands in my jacket pockets. “I needed something different to do.”
“And hockey won the lottery.”
I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Jesse invited me a few weeks back, but I didn’t feel like going then.”
She crossed her arms atop her knees. “It’s good that you feel like going now, right?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Felt . . . weird. I mean, I sort of had a good time.”
Lindsay didn’t respond immediately.
“Since Caleb asked me out, I’ve thought a lot about Spencer and what he would think of how we’ve acted since the crash,” she said. “He wouldn’t want us to mourn forever.” She caught and held my gaze. “He wouldn’t want you to hang on so hard.”
“I can’t help it. Part of me thinks he’s coming back, that I just have to have enough faith.”
“I wish that were true.”
Sounds of cars in town filled the few seconds of silence that followed.
I shifted my gaze toward the river. “I need to walk.” I took off and heard Lindsay slip off the steps and follow. We didn’t speak during the short walk to the river. Once we stood at the lip of the riverbank, I stared off toward the shadowy outlines of the peaks of Katmai.
“If it had been one of us, how long do you think he would have mourned?” I asked.
“I have no idea. He loved us both in different ways, but guys are different. Doesn’t mean they care any less.”
I inhaled slowly and let myself imagine Spencer had found some shelter to protect himself up in those forbidding mountains—that he was just biding his time until someone found him. I imagined this, even though my practical side knew it was impossible. No one was looking for him, because he was gone.
“He’d want you to be happy, Winter. Spencer didn’t have a selfish bone in his body. I can’t imagine any scenario where he’d want you to become a recluse.”
I knew she was right, but why was it so hard to admit it?
The Stanislowski brothers, all four of them, motored by in their small, battered fishing vessel, the
Katmai Queen
—a fancy name for a very unfancy boat—and waved at us.
Katmai Queen
—a fancy name for a very unfancy boat—and waved at us.
As we waved back, I decided to use their appearance to change the subject. “So, how did your date go?”
Lindsay scuffed at the edge of the dirt with her old hiking boot. “Are you sure you want to talk about that?”
I looked over at her. “Yes, Linds. Just because I can’t decide if I want to move on doesn’t mean you can’t. You don’t have to hide your happiness from me. Who knows, maybe it’ll rub off.” I tried to smile.
Lindsay waited another couple of moments before she spoke. “It was nice. We walked down the river trail, then up Mullins Road so Caleb could take some pictures. He’d never been to Alaska in the fall, so he was fascinated by the colors on the tundra.”
I tried to imagine seeing the golds and reds and the bright colors of wild blueberries and bearberries for the first time, but couldn’t. Those scenes had been a part of my earliest memories—they’d always been a part of me. But I figured the scene would captivate Caleb just as the Grand Canyon or the manic rush of Los Angeles would me.
“He showed me how to use his camera and the zoom lenses. I’ve seen the tundra a million times, but it was like I was seeing it for the first time with him.”
A pang hit me as I remembered that the thought of flying with Spencer had given me a similar feeling.
“I’m glad you had a good time. He seems like a nice guy.”
“He really is.” She paused and stared out across the darkening tundra on the opposite side of the river. “Honestly, he reminds me a lot of Spencer. Smart, thoughtful, a good person.”
I hoped she was right, because Spencer had been the gold standard. I closed my eyes and relived the kisses we’d shared through his bedroom window.
I wondered whether Mrs. Isaacs had found the carrot cakes and whether she’d known where it had come from.
“I better get home,” I said.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded, not wanting to ruin her pleasant day. “Mom will just be wondering where I am.”
On the way back to the house, Lindsay told me about more of her day. My initial distrust of Caleb ebbed. Maybe he represented the turning point Lindsay’s life needed.
When we reached the front steps, she climbed on her bike and flipped on the small headlight. But she didn’t leave.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
She studied me. “I know how much you loved Spencer, but he’d want you to move on. At some point, that will mean dating someone else.”
I was already shaking my head before all the words were out of her mouth.
She held up a hand to stop my protest. “I’m not pushing you. Only you can decide when you’re ready. I just want you to know it’s okay.” She glanced toward the Kerrs’ house. “No matter who it ends up being.”
Glad the encroaching darkness hid the flush of my face, I couldn’t respond. I didn’t know if I could without spilling everything about Jesse, including the dream. And I didn’t know if I was ready to do that until I began to understand the conflicted feelings that had begun roiling within me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Lindsay said as she started pedaling, and waved over her shoulder.
After she was gone, I sank onto the front steps and watched the shadows stealing more of the daylight each moment.
“Spencer, what am I supposed to do?” I whispered.
“Ah, summer!” Spencer said as we exited the school on the last day of our junior year, emerging outside as seniors.
“Our last one,” Lindsay said.
The last summer the three of us might spend together. That thought dampened my mood. I had only three months to decide if I’d tell Spencer how I felt about him, or if we’d go our separate ways in the fall with him none the wiser. At least we’d still be good friends. But what if I chanced telling him that I loved him as more, and he didn’t feel the same? Could I take the chance of ruining our friendship forever?
“Don’t look so sad,” Spencer said as he draped his arm around my shoulders. “We’re going to make this the best summer ever.”
CHAPTER 19
I
sat on a stool behind the Oregano’s front counter, doodling geometric shapes on the back of my order pad. Casey had run to the bank to make a quick deposit, and Lindsay wasn’t due out of basketball practice for another thirty minutes. In the meantime, I’d managed to put together the one pizza order that had come in.
sat on a stool behind the Oregano’s front counter, doodling geometric shapes on the back of my order pad. Casey had run to the bank to make a quick deposit, and Lindsay wasn’t due out of basketball practice for another thirty minutes. In the meantime, I’d managed to put together the one pizza order that had come in.
During my non-busy moments, I thought of Jesse. I’d waffled back and forth on whether to go to his party since he’d invited me two nights before. My answer changed with each mood swing. Today was a bit of an up day, so I was leaning toward going. As strange as it seemed, all the signs I was getting from him indicated he liked me. Liked me, as in a
potential-girlfriend
kind of way. Bookish girl and hot hockey player—in what world besides fiction did that kind of pairing happen?
potential-girlfriend
kind of way. Bookish girl and hot hockey player—in what world besides fiction did that kind of pairing happen?
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