Savanna's Gift

by Camille Eide

  “Then you’d better post something on that door or others will come out, too.”

  Great way to start an apology.

  Luke’s cheekbones and lashes shone wet from snow that landed on his face and melted. “No one else is crazy enough to come out here in a blizzard.” His voice rose above the wind. “Come back inside!”

  He turned and she started to follow, but then stopped. She wasn’t going to lose this chance. “No.”

  Luke turned back and glared. “No?”

  She shook her head “I need to talk to you.”

  He looked up at the sloped roof for signs of falling snow, then at her. “Are you crazy? Hypothermic? Come inside, Savanna.”

  She hated game-playing, but she had to do something. “If I do, will you listen?”

  Even through the flurrying snow, she could see him struggling, frustration filling him as he drew a deep breath. “All right. Come on!”

  ****

  Savanna started toward the door that led into the Fireside Room, but Luke wanted to avoid the crowd. The less distractions, the sooner they could get this over with.

  “This way.”

  He went down a few steps to the service entrance the lift workers used, making sure she followed. He opened the door and waited for her to go inside, then led her down the corridor to the equipment storage area. The place was empty, quieter than an alpine meadow after a heavy snow. He hadn’t spent much time here lately, not since the days of hanging out at the end of his shift with the other instructors, swapping stories from a day on the slopes. The days when Savanna worked as a server and made up the goofiest excuses to come down here and steal a kiss when no one was looking.

  Without thinking, he turned and studied her face. Her lashes rested against her pink cheeks, her lips were reddened from the cold. Red and kissable.

  Soft, yielding, murmuring your name…

  He spun around and took off his parka, giving it a violent shake.

  Great idea, meeting her down here. Idiot.

  Luke hung the coat on a peg and faced her. He was ready to be done with it and hoped his rigid stance and expression said as much.

  Savanna pushed back her hood, then pulled off her gloves and wiped her wet, glowing cheeks. “Luke, I feel I owe you an explanation. No excuses, just the truth.”

  He lifted his chin and waited, arms crossed.

  “My breaking up with you was…never about you. I was screwed up. I didn’t know how much until recently.”

  Great. The old “It’s not you, it’s me” line. Jaw tensing, he resisted the urge to check his watch. Did she really think he wanted to hear all this again?

  She took a breath and closed her eyes for several seconds. He waited, not sure if she was gathering lies or nerve.

  Actually, she seemed to be praying.

  “Do you remember how I never talked about my family?” Her earnest eyes met his. “At the time, that seemed the easiest way to deal with them. With my mom, mostly. She lived off the system all her life. I know a lot of people find themselves in need of help, but she was a con disguised as a charity case. She looked at everyone as a potential hand-out. She always had a sob-story lined up at a moment’s notice.”

  The soft curve of her cheek and her full lips captivated his thoughts for a few moments longer than they should have. She was waiting for a response. He tried to remember what he actually knew about her family. She’d somehow joked and skirted her way around telling him anything. But then, what else could he expect from someone so duplicitous?

  “I watched her scam county agencies, churches, neighbors, anyone she could appeal to with lies and a lot of really good acting,” she said, her voice low, as if the shame would find her even down here. “I was desperate to be nothing like that. I thought if I could reach a prestigious enough career, I would never be in danger of sinking to her level.” Her dark eyes met his, burning with sincerity. “Shame and fear drove me, Luke. I wanted to be at the top of whatever ladder I could get a hold of. I…had to be important enough that no one would ever suspect where I’d come from.”

  “But you never cared what people thought,” he said. “I mean, you didn’t appear to care.”

  “I didn’t, not like that. But I did crave a title and the respect of colleagues. I guess I wanted that because I needed…insurance that I would never end up like her.”

  In the silence, he turned the things she said over in his mind, preparing to file it all away to sort and dispose of later, yet all the while unable to tear his gaze from hers. His pager beeped. He glanced down at the code for the desk and resumed watching her, wanting to hear her voice and at the same time cursing himself for wanting it.

  “I might have gotten into medicine for the wrong reasons, but I’ve learned and grown so much. And I really do love it. Medicine has become very important to me, but for much different reasons. I don’t care about impressing people, just healing them.”

  He had to look away to let it all sink in. No. Truth was he needed a break from the passion on her face. He faked interest in the equipment on the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me about your family before?”

  “I don’t know, Luke, honestly. Whenever you and I were together, it was so easy to forget it all, to be free of the stigma that followed me like an ugly stain. I guess I didn’t want to risk losing that freedom and everything else I felt when I was with you. But when I moved away and got caught up in medical school and the environment—”

  “And met someone.” His jaw muscles pulsed. “Med student or doctor?”

  She winced. “No, Luke. Nothing like that. It was…” She looked around the room. Searching for more lies, probably. “The whole atmosphere blinded me. Somehow I let my old fears and shame talk me out of what I felt for you. I decided emotions got in the way of reaching professional goals, and I…let fear of failing rule my heart and everything else.”

  I wanted to marry you, not tie you down. The old hurt rose up again, twisting his gut. “How was marrying me going to get in the way of your goals?”

  She studied his face, a deep unease creeping into her eyes.

  He felt his lips tighten. The truth now. Even though I probably don’t want to hear it.

  “When you got your business degree and stayed on here as a ski instructor, with no plans to go out and do something with your life, I began to worry. You were so laid back about life that I…panicked.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “The truth is, I was afraid I couldn’t get to the top and stay there if I was with…someone who didn’t care about being at the top too.”

  His pager beeped again, but he ignored it and drilled her with a look. The words bubbled up and out before he could stop them. “But now look how things have ended up. Convenient, huh? Or maybe a five-star resort manager still isn’t good enough for you.”

  Her breath caught, and she blinked glittering eyes. “I’m sorry, Luke. I was wrong to think that way. And I did love you. I always did. I…” Her mouth clamped on whatever else she was going to say.

  So she had loved him. Just not enough.

  He waited, his gaze drawn to her mouth.

  “I was so blind,” she whispered.

  That makes two of us. Her quivering lips mesmerized him. He tore his gaze away. “So what enlightened you?”

  The hopeful way she was looking at him made him wish he hadn’t asked. “A lot of things, Luke. I saw some really happy CNAs making minimum wage, and hospital administrators and doctors making six-figures who couldn’t smile if you dared them. And I wasn’t happy. I did a lot of praying and—”

  His pager vibrated and chirped again. He checked, though he had no doubt it was the desk. He shook his head. “Sorry, I have to take care of this.”

  Savanna took a step closer, bringing with her a soft whiff of sweet perfume.

  He stiffened.

  “I’m so sorry for what I did to you, Luke. I hope knowing this helps you somehow. And I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

  His stomach clenched. A familiar wa
ve of longing burned through him, and he avoided her eyes. Her nearness and beauty would not cloud his judgment. Not this time.

  In the heavy silence, she waited for a response. He refused to meet her gaze. “Anything else?”

  She started to speak but hesitated. “No,” she said finally. “I just thought you had a right to know.”

  Since what she’d told him wasn’t pretty, it was probably the truth—he had to give her that. Nodding, he checked the pager. “Fair enough. I really do need to take care of this now. Excuse me.”

  He left her. And he knew without looking back that she watched him go.

  7

  She stared at the empty corridor for a while, wondering if he believed her, wondering if what she’d said would help him get past his hurt.

  And admit it—you’re hoping it will change the way he feels about you.

  Freezing from standing in a concrete corridor in snow-soaked pants, she took off her coat, shook off drops of melted snow and went back inside the lodge. At the far end of the lobby, a large crowd had gathered at the desk again. She crossed the lobby and joined the people listening to an announcement.

  “…plows have reached the slide and are now working to clear it, but at this point they don’t expect the road to be open to traffic until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

  The woman went on and answered questions, but Savanna already had her answer. It seemed she was getting a Christmas gift—the gift of a little more time. To do what, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that when her anxiety about confessing to Luke had lifted, it had been replaced with a hollowness that ached deep in her core.

  She wandered through the lobby hoping to find some way to pass the time. A frenzy of activity had erupted in the short time she’d been outside. Staffers hustled in and out of the Fireside Room with tables, cloths, chairs, and boxes. As the staff prepared for the evening’s Christmas Eve festivities, more guests began to gather. The snowboarders lounged around the lobby in groups, a few draped over chairs snoozing, others goofing around and munching on the snacks set out for the guests. Most of the boarder guys looked like they wanted to either hit the slopes or hit the road. Other guests paced the lobby. The lounge upstairs was probably packed. The confinement, not only from the blocked road, but from the storm itself, seemed to be wearing on everyone’s nerves, some more than others.

  Savanna went to the banquet hall to check out the preparations underway there, wondering if anyone she’d worked with four years ago was still here. Workers were arranging tables for dinner with red linen napkins and bowls of floating poinsettia blooms, candles and sparkling ornaments. Scanning the large hall, she spotted Luke near the kitchen talking with the staff. He saw her in a double take. As she considered leaving, he excused himself and came toward her. Savanna braced herself. She tried not to study him, but she couldn’t help but notice how well he carried himself. Strong and confident, yet not cocky. This job suited him.

  She offered a polite smile as he approached, trying to ignore the tremor running through her at the sight of him.

  “Did you need something?” he asked.

  “No, I’m good, thanks. Actually, I was hoping to find something to do.” The way his green eyes bored through her twisted her belly into knots. She tore her gaze away and glanced around the room. “Can I help?”

  His silence brought her back to those eyes. His gaze lingered on her face, sending heat straight to her cheeks. “Sure, I guess we could use some help. You can talk to Lori, right over there.” He pointed to a fiftyish woman near the kitchen giving directions to the busboys. “She’s setting up and decorating for dinner. Tell her I said to put you to work.”

  A sudden burst of gratitude sent a smile to her face that felt way too broad for folding napkins. “Thanks, Luke.”

  His eyes fell to her smile and lingered. He answered with a nod.

  She watched him leave, and then headed for Lori. If the woman was surprised that Luke would send a guest to work on decorations, it didn’t show. She gave Savanna a job stringing and hanging glittering red stars from the beams running overhead in the banquet hall.

  The work was fun, and the time passed quickly. As she hung the last few stars near the entrance, she saw the Freemans pass by with Mylie. Kathy and George held hands as they strolled slowly along, with Mylie beside her Papa, her little hand tucked in his. Was that what thirty years of marriage to the love of your life looked like?

  The sight of them together stirred a longing Savanna had worked hard in the last few years to suppress. But ignoring it had only kept the ache alive.

  Oh Lord, why here? Why now? I want Luke to heal, and I want his forgiveness. But I gotta be honest. After seeing him, that’s not enough. I want more. I don’t know what to do about that, so I’m giving these feelings to you, Lord. Please have your way in my heart.

  ****

  Metal clattered to the floor as Luke headed out of the kitchen. He spun around just as Pavao sent a pan skidding across the tile.

  “This is not how I work,” the chef muttered, his accent thick. He waved floppy slices of bread in the air. “This is not umjetnost—not art. I train in Dubrovnik with culinary masters, not school cafeteria.”

  Luke inhaled, hands on his hips. The last thing he needed was a pint-sized, high-maintenance chef throwing a tantrum. The regular guests as well as the extra skiers and boarders stranded here were dependent on the resort for food—they had no other choice. Feeding them was a higher priority than a five-course display of the man’s culinary prowess, but Luke didn’t expect Pavao to understand.

  “We will make do with what we have,” Luke said, lacing his tone with calm finality. “Our guests will be happy with anything we can provide. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches will do just fine.”

  Pavao glared. Luke lifted his chin and stood his ground.

  “Fine.” The chef turned to the prep cooks. “You know how to make peanut butter sandwich? Fantastic!” He slapped the bread down on the prep table. “You are now master chef!”

  Exhaling, Luke left the kitchen by way of the service corridor, avoiding the banquet hall—and Savanna. He needed to avoid her, if for no other reason than to give himself a chance to process her story. Hard as it had been to hear, he found himself beginning to believe her. Didn’t erase the hurt, though. That went too deep.

  He stopped near the lobby and scanned the activity without really seeing it. The lack of sleep had finally caught up with him. His eyes were heavy, and a nap sounded insanely tempting. With a glance at his silent pager, Luke slipped into the darkened breakfast room and took a seat at a table near the window. He pulled in a deep, cleansing breath and rested his forehead in his hands, stretching the taut bands of muscles along his neck and shoulders. The chaos of dealing with last minute changes and uptight people was partly to blame for the tension.

  But none of that stuff got under his skin like the constant awareness of Savanna’s presence nearby.

  Luke closed his eyes in a lame attempt to block the memories, but they glided in with ease like a ski slipping into a well-worn rut. The first time he saw her in the break room hunting for snacks for late-arriving, hungry little kids. Trading away all her breaks so she could see Luke for a few minutes before he had to take off for night classes. The way her eyes lit when she saw him coming. And her smile—the one that still had the power to nearly buckle him at the knee. The same smile that had accompanied her tears when he asked her to marry him.

  Lord, I haven’t thought about this stuff in a long time, and I sure don’t need to now. It’ll do me no good.

  He’d never known anyone like Savanna. So energetic, so full of life. And, now to find out, so full of secrets. He hadn’t known her situation, her motives. Maybe he had been too quick to judge. Maybe he did need to forgive and forget.

  No, not forget. With time, he might be able to forgive her, but he wasn’t about to let her do it to him again.

  All right, Lord, I guess I should work on the forgiving thing. Sure hope Yo
u’re going to help with that.

  ****

  When the banquet décor was complete, Savanna and the staff stood back while Lori inspected each table carefully, adjusting a few items a fraction of an inch, measuring distances with her outstretched fingers, crouching to see the tableware at eye level. Finally, she dismissed the crew to work on the rest of the evening’s preparations. As she headed for the exit, Savanna took a long, cleansing breath and exhaled, glad to have spent the time doing something productive.

  “Nope—forgot the back-ups.” Lori's voice stopped Savanna.

  She turned around to find the woman scrambling through a cupboard. “Savanna,” she called over her shoulder, “I hate to ask after you spent so long working on this, but do you know where the breakfast room is?” When Savanna nodded, Lori went on. “Do me a huge favor and grab four bundles of beverage napkins from the cupboard below the coffee makers. You can just leave them right here for the servers. I have to get back to the kitchen. Thank you!”

  With a smile, Savanna remembered all too well the pace of working here. But between the high energy and the mad rush, she’d enjoyed it. And the tips hadn’t been bad either.

  She slipped into the breakfast room and made her way to the coffee counter. A whisper of sound startled her. A man sat at a table at the far end of the room near the windows, in the shadows. At first, he seemed to be sleeping, but on closer look, she realized he was praying.

  Luke.

  OK, God. I’m going to take this as a sign.

  His head rested in his hands. As she approached, she cleared her throat so she wouldn’t startle him. He looked up and mumbled something that sounded like Wow, God—You sure don’t waste time.

  “Luke? Are you OK?”

  “Yeah.” He drew a deep breath. “Just taking a little break.”

  Savanna nodded. “Must be crazy for the staff right now, with the extra guests and all the last-minute changes.”

  Luke shook his head slowly. “One lady keeps calling the desk every ten minutes to complain about the lodge’s filtration system and how the air isn’t being properly cleaned to protect her from other guests’ germs.” He shot a darting glance at her. “She can smell them.”