Winter at the White Oaks Lodge

by Abbie Williams

  “Yes,” I whispered, snuggling against him, determined to delight in this for the last few seconds we would be allowed this morning.

  He groaned a little and then shifted so that I was not smashed beneath him, tightening his arms and kissing the top of my head. He whispered, “Good morning then. I suppose I better get my ass home before we’re in trouble.”

  “I’m glad you stayed,” I whispered back.

  “Me too,” he said. “The last thing I wanted was to go home and be without you last night. Well, now we’ve slept together, Camille. We better redefine our relationship.”

  I giggled, muffling the sound against him, and he kissed my hair again, stroking it with both hands. I said back, softly, almost shyly, “Maybe it would be all right if I called you my boyfriend then.”

  “Damn right,” he said, and reached to lift my chin with his fingertips. In the dimness of dawn, our sleep-smudged eyes held fast. He asked, “Are you free this evening?”

  “I am,” I replied. “Will you be back?”

  “Wild horses couldn’t stop me,” he said and then crushed me close for one last hug.

  Chapter Nine

  “So he’s your boyfriend now,” Jake said, and his voice was full of disdain, clearly masking his hurt. It was Tuesday, the first day of Christmas break for Tish and Clint and Ruthie, and Shore Leave was packed even though we weren’t technically open. Grandma, Mom, Aunt Ellen and Aunt Jilly were drinking coffee and planning what day to celebrate Christmas with the entire family, and at whose house. Rae and Millie Jo were settled in the corner booth, raptly engaged in playing dolls. Matthew was dozing in the playpen near the counter, bundled into a bright red footie. He had grown golden-blond curls all over his round little head, as beautiful as any storybook baby. Tish, Clint, Liam and Ruthie were playing Uno at table three, a big pan of pumpkin muffins taking up one of the chairs. Blythe and Uncle Justin were both at work; Blythe worked with one of Eddie’s sons on days when Shore Leave was closed, in a woodshop on the outskirts of Landon, where he was learning to make cabinets. I had been in a stupor of enchanted daydreaming, sitting with my chin braced on my palm and gazing out at the snowy day, wondering just where Mathias was at this moment in his plow truck, and what he was doing and how many hours would have to pass before I saw him again.

  He texted me about an hour after he’d left this morning, sneaking out just barely ahead of Grandma.

  Thank you for a beautiful wonderful night, it read.

  I wrote back, Your arms are so strong. Thanks for holding me in them. Oh, how much easier it was to be bold in a text than in spoken conversation. I included a smiley face and then felt all quivery and pressed ‘send’ before I could chicken out and change the wording.

  My phone vibrated almost at once and I nearly dropped it in my haste to see what he’d responded. My face flooded over with heat as I read, All yours.

  Did he mean his arms? Or did he mean him in his entirety? Both? I could hardly breathe and wrote back, Tonight?

  His reply read, No question mark. Tonight, exclamation point (!!!).

  And now my daydreaming had been rudely interrupted by Jake, who’d ridden over with Mom and the girls for no other reason than to torture me. I was sure Mom was just trying to be nice inviting him for breakfast, as Jake’s own mother worked quite a bit and he was often home alone, but I really wished he’d just stayed home.

  I nodded, uncomfortable telling Jake so, but then again he was my friend, if nothing else. I could not help that he liked me more than I liked him. That was not my fault.

  You kissed him. Twice.

  But that doesn’t matter now. It was a mistake, both times.

  I wouldn’t be so cruel as to admit this to Jake, but the truth remained. He sat opposite me and I slipped my cell phone out of sight beneath the table.

  “Isn’t that a little fast?” he asked me. To be fair, he looked concerned too, not just hurt. “I mean, you just met.”

  I longed to snap, It’s not your business! Back off!

  Instead I said, trying to infuse a little teasing into my voice, “Thanks, Dad.”

  He tipped his head to the side and gave me an exasperated look. He said, “I remember him from back when, working on the fire crew. He’s, like, nuts. I mean, like the kind of guy who’d race into a burning house because someone’s picture album was in there.”

  I sat straighter and actually paid attention at this statement. I asked, “He did that?”

  Jake nodded vigorously. “Maybe six summers ago. This lady was freaking out that her wedding album on the coffee table was going to get burned up and before anyone could tell her it was way too late, sorry, Mathias ran back into the burning house and saved it. I mean, it was a little singed…”

  “That’s brave,” I corrected, though I could hardly bear to think of Mathias in harm’s way, endangering himself for a bunch of pictures. Not even a kid or a pet, but pictures.

  “It’s nuts,” Jake repeated. “And he’s a total player, Camille, ask anyone.”

  My temper flared. Of course I had no reason to believe this, but a tiny part of my brain acknowledged that someone as damnably good-looking as Mathias could well deserve that description. Then I reassured myself that most rumors like that were not true; I was hardly the slut everyone believed I was, right?

  “Look, it’s not your business,” I said at last, trying not to allow my voice to sound to overtly angry.

  “I get that,” he said, his dark eyes on mine. His voice grew slightly pleading as he added, “I just worry about you.”

  I softened and said, “I know. I get that.”

  Mom came over then and said, “Can I steal you away for a sec, Camille?”

  I nodded, grateful for this inadvertent rescue. Jake nodded too and moved to join Tish and those guys.

  “What’s up?” I asked Mom, following her into the bar.

  She looked over her shoulder, covertly, as though expecting to have been followed, and then said, low, “I was just trying to save you.”

  I lifted my eyebrows at her.

  Mom went on, “Tell me about Matty Carter, huh?”

  Before I could even speak she said with certainty, “Camille, you just lit up like a firefly. I knew it. What’s going on between the two of you?”

  “We…we just…”

  “Shit,” said Mom, but she softened this with a half-smile. She added, “You’re falling for this guy.”

  There was no hiding it and I smiled back at her.

  “God, I haven’t seen that smile on your face in a long time,” she said softly, reaching to smooth my hair with both hands. “Oh, hon, I just hope…I mean, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “He’s not like that,” I said, even comprehending how absurd it surely was to make this sort of statement when we had just met last Thursday. When I hardly knew him. But I couldn’t explain to Mom that I had known him forever, somehow. That we’d been searching for each other. Despite a fairly romantic nature of her own, she would drag me away by the ear.

  “Grandma told me you talked to her about it last night. That you were going to take it slow,” Mom said this last part with over-exaggeration and I shrugged irritably from her grasp.

  “I’m not planning to get pregnant again,” I snapped. My shoulders sagged and I said almost right away, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Mom said. “And I know you would never try to get pregnant…”

  “I’m not as stupid as I used to be,” I said, closing my eyes.

  Probably I’m even more stupid, but I didn’t vocalize that.

  “Hon, it’s not about being stupid,” she said gently. “It’s about being in love.”

  “Mom, please just understand,” I asked her, looking deeply into her eyes. “I don’t know why but I trust him. And if it doesn’t work out—” my insides seized in rebellion at this pronouncement but I forced myself to finish, “If it doesn’t work out then I’ll deal with it. But I’ll never know if I don’t give it a chance.�
�

  Mom smiled and reached to smooth my hair again. She corrected me, “You mean we’ll deal with it.”

  ***

  By Friday night I had spent every evening with Mathias. On Wednesday I helped him move from his parents’ house to the apartment in Pine Ridge, which was a lovely opportunity to see the house where he’d been raised and the place he would now be living.

  “Superman posters?” I asked, giggling as I turned in a slow circle in his childhood bedroom, which was mostly bare, his belongings tucked into cardboard boxes and duffle bags, many of which were patched with duct tape, his go-to fixit tool. The walls in here were painted indigo blue and the bed and furniture had all been loaded into Mathias’s truck out in the driveway. Bull and Diana had a beautiful two-storey house on the north side of Flickertail, about five minutes’ walk from White Oaks.

  “Hey now,” he said, catching me around the waist for a sideways hug; his right arm was burdened with a cardboard box. He added, “You don’t have to move any of this stuff.”

  “I’m here to help you,” I reminded him. “And besides, how else would I know that you wore boxers with tiny green elves on them?”

  I presented these with a flourish and he yelped and tried to grab for them, but I darted away, laughing. I had found the Christmas boxers stuffed into a box of what appeared to be top-drawer things, socks and t-shirts, and couldn’t resist. Other than hugging and cuddling, we had not so much as kissed yet, and so I had not come close to seeing his underwear in person besides this pair.

  “Not reindeer or snowmen, but elves!” I pronounced gleefully, giggling and evading him. He dropped the box and managed to corner me, advancing menacingly, his shoulders curled forward.

  I couldn’t stop laughing, breathless and quivering, hiding the boxers behind my back as he pinned me with both arms, one on either side of my shoulders. His blue eyes drove straight into my heart and I bit my bottom lip as he smiled down at me and said, “Now, give those here and I’ll let you free.” He lowered his eyebrows and clarified, “For now.”

  I shook my head and then giggled and gulped at the same time as he leaned just slightly closer, as though executing a push-up against the wall.

  “One,” he began. “Two…”

  “What happens on ‘three’?” I asked, and was embarrassed at how faint my voice sounded, as though I’d been running miles.

  “Why don’t you wait and find out?” he asked, his eyelids lowering seductively, and my heart almost thrust through my ribcage. At the last second I darted, ducking beneath his right arm. He chased after me and we bumped into Tina in the hallway, also here to help, along with Sam.

  “Whoa there, kiddies,” she said, flattening against the wall to avoid us. Mathias had me around the waist from behind and he felt so good that I was only weakly struggling.

  “Tina, take these!” I begged her, still laughing, and tossed the boxers her direction.

  Tina whooped with laughter and held them up by the waistband.

  Mathias did not release his hold on me, his arms locked around my waist. He said to Tina, “Joke’s on you. I was just wearing those.”

  “Matty!” she shrieked, flinging them down the hall. “Eeeeew!”

  “He wasn’t,” I contradicted weakly, my stomach hurting from laughing so hard. I was practically limp in his grasp.

  Tina punched his shoulder and said, “Nice one, Bratty-pants.”

  Skid’s apartment at Pine Ridge was a small two-bedroom. The apartment complex was on the far side of a parking lot, bordered on three sides by dense pine forest. By the time all of Mathias’s things had been unloaded it was late evening, and I had to be getting home. It was just us and Skid by then; Skid was a tall, gangly and awkward guy who hadn’t yet grown into either his hands or his nose, besides being the same age as Mathias at twenty-two. He was an amiable guy, if slightly immature. Skid was currently in the bathroom, Mathias and I standing in the little kitchen; his things were stacked and scattered haphazardly all across the floor of the adjacent living room.

  “I better get home,” I said then, with reluctance, catching sight of the green numbers on the microwave display. I tried not to feel a prickle of panic at the thought of how I couldn’t even look forward to spending very many evenings here, unless I carted along my daughter. Mathias had driven my pickup here, me in the passenger seat, while Tina had driven his truck.

  Mathias saw the change in my expression, which had been lighthearted all evening to this point. He took my shoulders into his hands and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Not nothing,” he said at once. “Camille, what’s wrong?”

  I closed my eyes for a moment and then said, “I was just wishing that I could stay here and hang out with you and I can’t. I can’t just do those things.”

  “Then I’ll come to your house,” he said.

  My eyes flashed open and into his; he looked so serious. Though I wanted him to more than about anything, I wouldn’t be that girl. The clingy kind. I said, “No, you have lots to do here. It’s all right.”

  He asked, “Will Millie be asleep yet?”

  “Pretty soon,” I said, lost in his eyes. Behind us, the toilet flushed and Skid came clunking down the short hallway.

  “I’ll get a few things done here and then I’ll be there. Will Joan be upset?”

  “No,” I said, happiness shivering through me, chasing away the panicky flutterings in my gut, the terrible thoughts that he would eventually, probably sooner than later, grow tired of waiting around for a girl with a child of her own.

  “Come here,” he said, taking me against his chest. Skid came into the kitchen and cleared his throat, then moved unceremoniously around us and helped himself to a beer from the fridge. Mathias stroked my hair with both hands and said into my ear, “I’ll be over in a little while. I promise.”

  I nodded and hugged him hard, then drew back and managed a smile. I wanted so much to believe in him. I said, “I’ll be there.”

  ***

  I worked Thursday night at Shore Leave and then Friday at White Oaks, and basked in the glow of Mathias’s gaze as he tended the bar with Elaine. Tina was on shift too and we were incredibly busy, as it was the day before Christmas Eve and White Oaks would be closed for the holiday weekend. Bull didn’t book guests over Christmas, instead reopening the day after. I was wearing two glittery red poinsettia barrettes clipped into my hair, which was twisted up high on my head; it was late into the evening and I was fantasizing about what I might be able to give Mathias for Christmas, which was just a day away. Grandma and I had Millie Jo’s Santa presents covered; we’d made a special trip last August to the Mall of America near the Cities. I was considering where I could find a present for Mathias so last-minute, dallying over the computer monitor as I typed in last order of mozzarella sticks (warning the two cooks Burt and Jerry that we had a late table) when Mathias came bursting through the swinging door. I looked up in surprise; he looked furious.

  “Noah,” Mathias said through clenched teeth. “Just came in here.”

  “What?” I asked dumbly, startled at this pronouncement. My stomach went all at once hollow and cold. I looked over my shoulder as though expecting Noah to be standing there. I hadn’t seen him in over a year.

  “He’s at the bar with Mandy Pearson,” Mathias explained. “Camille, you don’t have to go out there, I’m telling you.”

  “He can do what he wants,” I said, though nervous tension flooded me at the thought of the two of them sitting out at the bar. I felt sweat prickle between my breasts and beneath my arms.

  Mathias said heatedly, “You know what I want to do? I want to go out there and fucking slam his head against the bar and then ask him if he knows what his little girl wants for Christmas.”

  At his heartfelt if rather violent words, tears seeped into my eyes.

  Mathias said intently, “Don’t cry. Oh God, it breaks my heart and I want to kill him even more. I hate tha
t he has this much power over your emotions.”

  I drew a breath and turned to him, setting aside my order notebook and pen, reaching up to put my hands on his shoulders. His blue eyes were fierce with emotion of his own, and I said truthfully, “He has no power over me. But what you said…about him not knowing what Millie wants for Christmas…just makes me sad for my daughter. That the person who conceived her is so worthless.”

  He caught me into a hug, fast and hard, kissing my temple. He said against the side of my forehead, “You don’t have to go out there. I’ll take care of that last table for you. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

  I allowed myself to cling to him, this man whose scent seemed more familiar to me than my own these days. Whose powerful arms had tenderly cradled me every night this week, in whose arms I expected to be held later tonight. I said softly, “I’m not a coward.”

  “I know,” he said at once, drawing back to look at my eyes. He smiled a little then, and tried for a little teasing, as though to get me to smile too, “But one word from you and—” and he pulled away enough to slam a fist into the opposite palm. He added, “I admit I would take pleasure in it. Shit.”

  I did smile then, a crooked little smile. I said, “Quit it. He won’t even notice me. I’ll just finish up this last table.”

  Mathias narrowed his eyes and looked back in the direction of the bar. He said, “I’ll keep my eye on him.”

  I ducked into the employee bathroom before daring to brave the floor. I had a shred of pride left, buried beneath the weight of my anger and resentment towards Noah Utley. I was going to assume that he didn’t realize I was working here this winter. Surely he would not show his face at Shore Leave unannounced this way; he couldn’t have known I was at White Oaks. At least I hoped he would have more class than to show up with his new girlfriend where the mother of his basically-unacknowledged child worked. Though nothing should surprise me about him, not anymore. I gave myself a quick, critical perusal before proceeding into the dining room.