by Katy Paige
On the other hand, her mind—her poor, sensible head—was trying so hard to maintain some semblance of order, and it was losing the battle wildly, going down in flames and smoke. She hadn’t even tried to control her thoughts tonight. If anything, she had flat-out ignored all the reasonable, sober advice she’d given herself about restraint. But ignoring it didn’t change the truth: Sam was still leaving on Monday. He would return to Chicago to resume his life there, and she’d be left alone in Gardiner with a handful of beautiful memories.
She flicked on the TV and surfed the channels but found she didn’t have the heart for a Christmas movie after all. She turned it off, staring blankly at the dark-gray screen.
How can I bear to say good-bye? To live with excitement and attraction and the possibility of love one day only to have it ripped away the next?
The possibility of love.
She couldn’t be falling in love with Sam—she had barely known him for more than a day. The possibility of love, though, was real and felt imminent and far safer than love itself.
How will I bear saying good-bye?
She swallowed, running her hand absentmindedly over Casey’s soft fur, deep in thought. And then she knew. The answer came to her.
Without flowery words or comforting explanations, she heard the words in her head: I will bear it. I will. Because the alternative—not making the most of these precious days with Sam—is impossible.
“I will say good-bye, and I will bear it,” she whispered.
Throwing caution to the wind wasn’t a familiar path for Jenny, though, and in spite of her determination to enjoy every minute until they parted on the steps of the old Livingston Courthouse, a creeping melancholy began its assault on her unprotected heart.
***
Sam wasn’t ready to go inside his dreary room. His body was revved up and humming, and he needed to clear his head before he was trapped in that tiny hotel room for the night. He parked his car and walked around the hotel grounds. There wasn’t much to see—a covered swimming pool and basketball courts, surrounded by a few well-worn picnic tables. He sat up on top of one of the ice-covered picnic tables, buttoning up his coat and hugging himself against the cold.
He’d never get used to winter night skies in Montana and never stop longing for them when he was far away. They were as much a part of him as being half-Swedish or half-Irish or having two sisters—simply but irrevocably a part of who he was. He found Cassiopeia easily, remembering Jenny pointing it out to him earlier. What had she called it? “The vain queen.” He ruefully wondered why they hadn’t named it “Pepper” instead.
Pepper. Chicago. He breathed in deeply, the cold air stinging the inside of his nose and making his eyes water. After the homey, small-town charm of Gardiner, he wasn’t feeling excited about going home.
A custom-designed silver-and-turquoise Christmas tree in his building’s lobby?
Parties with models dressed in skimpy elf outfits offering high-end vodka shots?
Sam’s Christmas season was mostly about wild parties, an excuse to let loose and get drunk, and annoying crowds of bustling people on the streets making his commute fifteen minutes longer. The real meaning of Christmas—the real reason—was totally forgotten by him until Christmas Eve, when he went to church with his folks and gave the Christmas story his brief and passing attention.
He wished Jenny could be there with him, to ground him with her no-nonsense reason, to bring her warmth and homespun goodness, to give significance to a place fast losing all meaning to him.
I need Jenny in Chicago.
He thought of her face before they had parted tonight. She had no idea she had been looking at him with the most mind-blowing bedroom eyes he had ever seen, and it had made every cell in his body fight against his decision to leave. He had never been with anyone so unpracticed and genuine; she was just Jenny opening herself to romantic love, he believed, for the first time in her life. That she chose to open herself to Sam was intoxicating and humbling at once, and he couldn’t let go of her now.
I want Jenny in Chicago.
Suddenly, he had an idea. It burst into his mind fully formed, and he jumped off the picnic table and strode quickly into the main lobby. He approached the girl at the front desk.
“Hey, if I needed to print something out, could you do that for me?”
“Of course, sir,” she said. “And what are we printing tonight?”
“Airline tickets,” he responded, running to his room to grab his iPad.
***
Sam set his alarm for eight o’clock just to be safe.
He knew good and well how Jenny felt about tardiness, and with only one more day together, he wanted it to be perfect.
Walking to the little church, not two miles from his hotel, he passed by Jenny’s apartment, over the bridge and down past the park. He was amazed by how good it felt, after years of eschewing church for hangover-relieving brunches, to shower, shave, put on his suit and coat, and walk to church.
He walked up the steps of the church jauntily and scanned the small sanctuary for Jenny. Standing in the back vestibule, he looked for her amid the bustling congregation of parishioners visiting with one another before the service started. It didn’t take long for him to find her. It would have been impossible to miss the five blond heads lined up in the second pew.
Lindstrom, party of five?
Sam grinned as he headed up the aisle.
Jenny had saved him an aisle seat and turned to catch his eye as he was about halfway down the aisle, her face registering surprise followed by a beaming smile.
“Bet you thought I’d be late,” he whispered, sliding down beside her.
“You don’t have the most punctual track record.”
“Morning, Pretty Girl,” he murmured. “I missed you.”
She shook her head lightly and looked down at her folded hands, but he could tell she was pleased.
He glanced beyond her to their left and saw her brothers and Mr. Lindstrom in a straight line, all four heads craning for a look at Sam. He offered them a reserved smile and a small wave. The boys smiled and waved back in greeting. Mr. Lindstrom’s blue eyes held Sam’s unwaveringly for a moment, then he nodded curtly before turning his attention ahead.
The pastor entered from a side door, wearing his robe and vestments, and the congregation chitchat hushed to a murmur as he lit the Advent wreath candles and welcomed everyone to the service. They opened their hymnals to a Christmas carol, and Sam smiled, glad to be sitting next to Jenny in church at Christmastime.
***
After the service, Jenny guided Sam to the fellowship hour where she poured them each a cup of coffee, waiting for her family to join them. Her father and brothers had gotten tied up in a conversation about ice fishing with the folks in the pew behind them, and she had gestured to them to come find her at the coffee social when they were finished.
“Jenny,” Sam whispered, catching her eyes over the rim of the paper cup he held, “what do you want to do today?”
She smiled at him, delighted. “I don’t know. What do you have in mind?”
He raised his eyebrows, teasing her, making her remember his knee-buckling kisses from last night. “We can figure it out after.”
“Sam!” Nils was suddenly at Sam’s shoulder, slapping his back in hello.
Lars, Erik, and her father approached from a distance, and Jenny breathed deeply. It was one thing for Sam to meet the boys; meeting her father was another. They formed an awkward semicircle around Jenny and Sam, eyes—mostly—on Sam.
“Sam,” she said, “I didn’t get to properly introduce you before. This is my father, Carl. Pappa, this is Sam. He’s kin of Kristian, who’s marrying Ingrid.”
Sam offered Carl his hand. “Mr. Lindstrom. It’s a pleasure, sir.”
“Heard about a fella you were keeping company with at the Stroll,” said Mr. Lindstrom, ignoring Sam’s hand, eyes on his daughter, blue eyes to blue eyes.
“Oh, Pappa. We�
�re not…keeping company. Sam’s just visiting until Monday.” She studied her toes, embarrassed. Who said things like “keeping company” anymore? Her father was hopelessly old-fashioned. “The boys met him yesterday.”
Her father nodded sternly and turned back to Sam, finally taking his hand. “Ingrid’s your cousin, Sam?”
“No sir,” he replied, his shoulders square and sure. “Ingrid’s fiancé, Kristian, is my cousin.”
“Uh-huh. One over in Afghanistan, eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did military time myself,” he said, dropping Sam’s hand. “You?”
“No, sir.”
“Uh-huh. My boys didn’t neither.” Her father nodded again, then cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, putting his hands on his hips and leaning toward Sam with purpose. “Your intentions toward my daughter…are they pure, Sam?”
“Pappa!” Jenny exclaimed in a shocked gasp. Where, oh, where were those caverns of the universe when you needed one to open at your father’s feet? “Sam is just a friend—”
“Yes,” said Sam, firmly and without hesitation.
She turned her glance from her father and looked at Sam, as if in slow motion, as if seeing him for the first time. He stood planted on the ground, holding her father’s eyes without excuse or explanation, without pause or any trace of intimidation. He was surefooted, tall, and proud, and a smile spread across her face as her heart burst with pleasure. She was sure Sam didn’t realize the nuances of this exchange, but she was touched beyond words that he would stand up for her with such a confident declaration.
Her father nodded at Sam slowly, his face unreadable. Then out of nowhere, he flashed Sam a wide smile as his weathered face relaxed, showing six decades of laugh lines. “You sure you’re not from Montana?”
Sam chuckled then, sharing that his mother had grown up in Choteau, and he had spent a good bit of time up there throughout his childhood. Her father pumped Sam for information about his folks in Choteau; every Swede was always convinced they could figure out they were sixth cousins thrice removed to another Swede if they were just given enough time.
Lars clapped Sam on the back and kissed Jenny’s cheek, leaving for Upper Slide, where he and Paul would be putting up their fishing shack on the lake. Erik said he’d give them a hand and followed him out. Nils and her father needed to iron out some details for a group of tourists arriving tomorrow. Her father’s eyes twinkled.
“We run tours up there in the park. This one’s a wildlife group. You like wildlife, Sam?”
“Sure, Mr. Lindstrom. Can you see a lot in winter?”
“Oh, yah. Best time to see ’em. Nowhere for ’em to hide. Clean white backdrop. If you have some time today, Jenny could take you for a walk out there. See a bit. She knows all the right places.” He winked at his daughter. “See you for supper later, Jenny-girl?”
“Four o’clock, Pappa,” she responded, waving as he and the boys exited out a side door.
Once they were out of sight, Jenny turned to Sam, eager to be alone with him for whatever time they had left together. “Ready to go?”
He nodded, taking her hand in his.
“Sam…you, um, you didn’t have to say that,” she said as they walked through the front courtyard, onto the street, and back toward the bridge.
“Say what?”
“You know, the whole ‘pure intentions’ thing. He’s just really old-fashioned.”
“I meant it.”
She whipped her head up to meet his eyes, confused. “You couldn’t have meant it.”
“Of course I did, Jen.”
Her heart started beating like crazy. He couldn’t have meant it. He couldn’t have fully formed intentions for her. He couldn’t possibly mean he was ready to court her. She stared at him hard, wondering if those words meant the same thing to him as they did to her.
“Sam, I don’t know if we’re talking about the same thing here.”
He shrugged. “Well…I can only speak for myself, but I meant I would treat you with respect. I wouldn’t dishonor you. I wouldn’t do anything to compromise your reputation.”
“Oh,” she answered, a little bit relieved and a little bit sad at the same time.
“What did you think I meant?”
She stopped at the railing, looking out over the white water. Bright sunshine made the water sparkle, and melted small bits of ice wept into the river, becoming part of the rush of sound and fury.
She sighed loudly, blowing the air out of her lips in big white puffs and resting her mittened hands on the railing.
“My father’s old-fashioned. He uses old-fashioned words and phrases sometimes. It’s just his way. ‘Pure intentions’ isn’t about you seducing me.” She bit her bottom lip, feeling beyond embarrassed. “You…You…” She groaned, meeting his eyes, then finishing in a rush, “You essentially just assured him you’re courting me with an eye to marriage.”
His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. She almost started giggling, but thinking about the conversation she was going to have to have with her father to clear up this misunderstanding sobered her up a little.
“Well then it’s a good thing we’re getting married tomorrow,” he quipped.
“It’s not funny, Sam. He takes these things seriously.”
“I’m sorry, Jenny. I just—I don’t know what to say. Who uses phrases like that anymore? It’s the twenty-first century.”
That got her back up. She could say her pappa was old-fashioned. Even the boys could say their pappa was old-fashioned. But that’s where the list ended, and Sam’s name wasn’t on it.
“Oh, no, Sam, I’m sorry. I guess we’re just a little too provincial for sophisticated you. My father cares about my reputation and—you know? Forget it. Don’t trouble yourself, Sam. You’re from a big city. He’ll understand.”
She turned from the railing and started walking briskly again. He quickened his pace to keep up, finally putting his hand on her arm.
“Jenny. Wait. Slow down. I feel like you’re picking a fight with me. We’re not on opposite sides here.” She stopped walking and faced him as he continued. “I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward spot. And I didn’t mean to mislead your father. And you, yourself, said he was old-fashioned. I don’t know why you’re getting so mad at me.”
He was right.
She was picking a fight.
She was angry that he was leaving tomorrow. She was angry that she cared about him so much. She was angry that his “pure intentions” weren’t the ones her father meant, even though that would have been crazy. She hadn’t known him long enough to consider courting, let alone marriage. It was ridiculous. But he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“You’re right. I’m sorry, Sam.” She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, then exhaled and opened them, murmuring, “Noen elsket meg en gang. Jeg er velsignet” as quietly as she could.
“Hey, what is that? That meditation thing you do. That’s Swedish, right? You’re saying something about love?”
She started walking again, but slower this time. He reached for her hand, and she let him take it.
“It’s Norwegian. From my mom.” She took a deep breath. “When she was dying, we were all brave. Upbeat, you know? But one afternoon, she caught me crying. I started crying because I knew how much I was going to miss her.” She felt a fat, hot tear roll down her cheek. “And she said when I missed her so much, it was hurting—h-hurting my h-heart—I should close my eyes and picture her face. And I should say, Noen elsket meg en gang. Jeg er velsignet to myself, which means, ‘S-Someone loved me once. I-I am blessed.’” Tears were streaming down her face as she finished speaking, but she made no move to swipe at them. They stayed where they fell. She bit her lip and inhaled through her nose, sniffling. “Sometimes it makes me feel better. Sometimes it makes me feel worse. But it always makes me remember her, and then I feel closer to her.”
“I bet she’s very proud of you,” he said gently.
“I doubt it
. I haven’t done anything very special with my life.”
“That’s not true. You teach kids. You impact every one of their lives. You’re very kind. Everyone in this town knows you and loves you. Any fool walking next to you at a Christmas Stroll could see that. Nothing special? Everything, Jenny, everything about you is special. I can’t believe you can’t see that.”
You don’t know, she thought to herself. She wanted more than this for me.
C. S. Lewis had written at the time of his wife’s death, “I never knew that grief felt so much like fear.” As Jenny emerged from the cocoon of grief following her mother’s death, she had clutched onto her family more strongly than ever. The ultimate question was childish but haunting: If I lost my mother when I left for Great Falls, what would happen if I left again?
So even though her mother had wanted more than a life in Gardiner for Jenny, her mother’s wishes for her had taken a backseat to the gripping fear that demanded she stay close to her father and brothers. If her mother was watching, Jenny was certain she was disappointed.
Still, she wanted to weep from the beauty of his words, from his kindness, his reassurance, the way he saw her.
How will I bear to say good-bye?
They stopped in front of the Prairie Dawn. His black-gloved finger swiped gently under each of her eyes in turn, then he touched her nose with a tap, smiling tenderly at her. “Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded, smiling for him, grateful for him.
“Now…no more crying or fighting, Pretty Girl. It’s our last day. We have a whole afternoon, and I was thinking…”
She looked up at him with anticipation, sniffling for the last time and giving him a fresh, hopeful smile. “Mmm?”
“I heard tell about some wildlife in these hills, and I am a pretty wild guy…”
“For Chicago.” She teased with good-humored sarcasm.
“For Chicago. That’s right. And I think I need to see if the wildlife in Yeller can hold a candle to the wildlife in the big city.”