Winter Longing (16 page)
I thought a moment, then nodded. “I feel like I’m riding a yo-yo sometimes. Up one minute, down the next.”
He didn’t respond immediately, so I looked in his direction. Something about the tight expression on his face made me wonder if he didn’t really want to talk about what I felt for Spencer. God, as impossible as it seemed, was I hurting him?
He met my eyes. “I know what it’s like to lose someone.”
I hadn’t expected that response. “Patrice?”
He laughed bitterly. “No.” Moments passed as he took another bite of brownie, chewed, swallowed. “My mom left when I was eight, just disappeared. We thought something horrible had happened, until a month later when we got a letter from Colorado saying she just didn’t want to be a wife or mother anymore.”
It took a moment for the shock of his revelation to sink in. “That’s horrible.”
“Yeah, pretty much sucked.”
Everyone knew his dad was divorced, and none of us had ever seen Jesse’s mom, but this had never entered my mind as a possibility.
“Have you heard from her since then?”
Jesse shook his head as he grabbed yet another brownie. Looked like I wasn’t the only one who needed a chocolate fix.
“Don’t really want to, either. I did at first because I missed her. Then I wanted to see her so I could tell her what a pathetic mother she was. Then I just stopped caring.”
I tried to imagine a child version of Jesse looking out the window of his bedroom, wondering when his mother was going to come home. Only she never did. My heart squeezed for that little boy.
“Things got better when Dad met Brenda a couple of years later, then bought the store down here and we moved. She’s always tried so hard to make me feel wanted, you know?” He glanced over his shoulder to see if Brenda was within earshot. “That’s why I go along with the pizza and games party each year.”
“It’s really sweet of her. Plus, what else are we going to do? Tundra isn’t exactly a hotbed of nightspots.”
“True. And this’ll be the last one.”
Next year at this time, Tundra would be in our past. Some would stay, but many of us were bound for other places. Anchorage, Fairbanks, Seattle, other points outside. I no longer knew where my own path would take me, but I doubted my parents would let me hide in my room the rest of my life.
“Does anyone else know?”
“Nope. You’re the first.”
“Why tell me?”
Our eyes met, and I experienced the oddest sensation that I could fall in and drown in those dark depths.
“I like you.” He paused for the briefest moment. “And you’re easy to talk to. More real than most people.”
I shifted my gaze to the windows, the clear night outside. If we shut off the house lights, we’d probably be able to see the stars. I heard a sigh from Jesse, one that sounded both frustrated and resigned.
“Spencer was a good guy,” Jesse said, abruptly changing topics. “I liked him.”
“He was the best.” I paused for a moment. “We were supposed to have our first date that night, to celebrate him getting his pilot’s license.”
Like Jesse, I’d shared something deep and personal. Something about the half dark, the shared sense of loss, the odd comfort made it easy to talk to him despite our unspoken feelings.
“You’d liked him a long time, hadn’t you?”
I hesitated, considered how sharing further information about Spencer might affect Jesse. I still could only half believe his feelings for me were a possibility. Finally, I decided on honesty.
“Since elementary school. I only got up the nerve to say something a few days before. . . .”
I left out the kissing and other intimate details, but otherwise he got the whole story of how I’d liked Spencer since second grade. I should have stopped right there, but it was as if my mouth were a runaway train.
“We’d planned to go to the Snow Ball,” I said. “I was so excited. Doesn’t seem important now.”
Jesse leaned forward, angling himself closer to me. “Maybe you’ll still go.”
I held my breath for a moment, afraid he might ask me. And afraid of what I might say in response.
“So what’s in the bag?” Jesse gestured toward my Tundra Books bag.
For a heartbeat, I hesitated before pulling out
Dressed: A Century of Hollywood Costume Design
and showing him the cover.
Dressed: A Century of Hollywood Costume Design
and showing him the cover.
“It’s written by a designer who’s been nominated for an Academy Award.” I allowed myself to indulge in a brief glimpse of my own Oscar fantasy. “I used to think I wanted to be a costume designer.”
“You don’t now?”
I returned the pristine book to the bag, wondering if I’d ever take it out again. “I don’t know anymore. I haven’t drawn since before the crash.” I sighed. “Feels like that part of me died, too.”
“Maybe it’s just hibernating.”
I looked at his profile and realized Jesse was smarter and more mature than I’d ever given him credit for. “Waiting for spring, metaphorically speaking?”
“When you lose someone, lots of things go on hold. But you eventually come out of the fog and want to live again. New things replace what you lost.”
But no one could replace Spencer. It was cruel to let Jesse think he could, if indeed that was where his thoughts were leading him. How could I say that, though, when I wasn’t even sure of my perceptions? What if I was totally off base and made an enormous fool of myself?
“That sounds like it came from a self-help book,” I said with a hint of a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
He shrugged. “For all I know, it did. It’s probably something I remembered from the counselor Dad made me see after Mom left.”
I could tell he was spinning a story. Not that he hadn’t seen a counselor, but that his words had been repeated from some long-ago session. He’d shared something profound with me, and I’d made light of it. I felt terrible.
Jesse pointed at the Tundra Books bag. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s cool. You should go for it.”
I picked at a stray thread sticking out from the side seam of my jeans. “It’s hard to imagine going that far away, leaving Alaska and everyone behind.”
“Why can’t you draw your designs here?”
“The school I’d planned to go to is in California. And if I wanted to work in the movie industry, Hollywood isn’t moving to Anchorage anytime soon.”
I thought I saw a flicker of sadness in Jesse’s eyes—another sign that this night had to exist in some alternate dimension.
“Well, Alaska isn’t going anywhere. You can always come back and visit.”
The strangest thought entered my head, that Jesse would be among the people I’d miss if I ever left Tundra behind.
“What about you? What are your plans?” I really wanted to know.
“File that under ‘I Don’t Know,’ too. Everyone probably expects me to take over the store when Dad retires.”
“Doesn’t sound too exciting.”
He laughed. “What? You don’t think a rewarding career in the grocery business is exciting?”
He said it with such a straight face that I laughed, too. I realized how little I’d laughed in recent weeks. It felt weird, and yet good at the same time. Yet another thing I should thank him for.
I still felt the tug of a smile on my lips a few minutes later, when I noticed how much time had passed. “I’d better get home. Thanks for the brownies.” I eyed the nearly empty plate. “I think I need to run to King Salmon and back to work off the calories.”
When I started to stand, Jesse jumped to his feet and extended his hand to help me up. I wavered for a moment before placing mine in his. It was just a helpful gesture, I told myself.
He pulled me to my feet, but he didn’t let go once I was standing before him, closer than I expected. His lips parted. “Winter.”
I leaned forward before something clicked in my brain—common sense—and I stepped backward.
I made myself smile, but I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Thanks again. I’ll see you at school.”
I wanted to say more, to thank him for everything: for listening, for sharing his own story, and even for the feelings he hadn’t spoken, because even though they scared me, they also helped make me feel alive. I hoped Spencer would forgive me for my weakness.
Jesse didn’t follow me as I stepped back out into the chilly night. I took a few seconds to breathe deeply of the crisp air before heading for my empty house.
The almost kiss was still zipping through my brain when I rounded the fence. I could barely distinguish someone sitting on the top of my front steps. I froze and sucked in a breath, considering retreat. But then the figure looked my way, and I realized it was Lindsay. What was she doing here this late? Oregano’s had closed an hour before.
Lindsay startled me by jumping up and running toward me. When she wrapped me in her arms, I heard her sniffles.
“I thought something had happened to you,” she said.
“No, I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming over.”
Lindsay’s continued crying worried me because, despite everything she’d been through, Linds didn’t often cry. She typically got mad and threw things or cursed. I pulled back and looked at her face, then sucked in another breath. Jesse’s house shed just enough illumination to reveal the bruise marring her left cheek.
“I love it, Linds,” I said as I pulled the red-and-white knit scarf from the package.
“You better. It took me six months to make the thing.”
I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Sorry, I didn’t knit you a sweater,” Spencer said.
I laughed. “Good. I’d hate to see what that would look like.”
He handed me a package. When I ripped away the wrapping and opened the box inside, I found a Quote-a-Day calendar and a certificate from the International Star Registry. I read the text on the certificate and felt myself tearing up. I met Spencer’s eyes and, unbelievably, fell more in love with him in that instant.
“You named a star after me?”
“It seemed appropriate.”
CHAPTER 21
“Oh
my God, Linds,” I said as I turned her more fully toward the light and examined the damage. “Did Caleb do this to you?”
my God, Linds,” I said as I turned her more fully toward the light and examined the damage. “Did Caleb do this to you?”
She pulled away. “No!” She sounded horrified that I’d think so. “It was Dad.”
The fact that she hadn’t called him “the sperm donor” told me how upset she really was. “I thought he left.”
“He came back, obviously.” She shivered, so I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and guided her inside the warmth of my house.
“Was he drunk?” Even so, Lindsay had said he’d always focused his rage on her mom, not her or her brothers.
“When is he
not
drunk?”
not
drunk?”
I steered her to the kitchen, where I retrieved a bag of frozen corn, wrapping it in a thin dish towel and pressing it gently to her face.
“What happened?”
“He came back stinking pissed, ran the truck right over Seth’s bike, then had the nerve to stomp in yelling about how it’d been in his way.” She slammed the side of her fist against the top of the kitchen table. “The bike was a good ten feet off the driveway. Of course, he was too far gone to realize that he’d missed the driveway entirely.”
She let out a shaky breath that caught on an angry sob she managed to wrangle into submission.
“I’d had it, Winter.” She choked on another sob before shaking it off, too. “I told him exactly what a pathetic loser I thought he was and that we’d all be better off if someone tossed him in the middle of the Bering Sea.”
My own anger fired. “And he hit you?”
“Yep. I’m following in Mom’s footsteps. What a proud moment.”
I wrapped my hands around her fist, shook it until she looked at me. “You’re not like her, Linds. You stood up to him, and then you left.”
A tear escaped her eye and ran down the cheek that hadn’t been damaged by her dad’s ham of a hand. I wiped it away, then pulled her into my arms. “I know you don’t like to show weakness, but crying isn’t weakness. Sometimes it’s the healthiest thing you can do.”
My words must have picked away the final piece of mortar holding her dam together. It broke, and all her hurt and anger and disillusionment came pouring out onto my shoulder. I held her and let her cry until she couldn’t anymore.
When I pulled back so she could wipe her nose, I ran my hand over her hair. “Where’s Seth?”
“Spending the night at Heath Corgin’s, thank God.”
I waited until her eyes met mine. “We need to call the police. This can’t happen again.”
A shadow passed over her eyes, and I knew she was dreading the additional embarrassment this would cause her when word got out. Still, she nodded bravely.
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