by Karen Swan
‘Really?’ Jonas sounded baffled.
‘What? You don’t think it was?’
‘Well, I think there’s another way of looking at it.’
‘Which is?’
‘That you got to do for Lucy what you couldn’t for Mitch . . . You got to save her.’ His tone was gentle but his eyes direct as he glanced over at her and she sensed he never shrank back from facing the truth. ‘Maybe it was the universe squaring off that particular circle.’
Meg stopped poling, gliding to a stop within seconds, and it was a few moments before Jonas realized she had fallen behind. He stopped too and turned.
‘Are you OK?’ he called back, leaning on his pole.
She stared back at him, her breath coming heavily. In the distance, she saw Badger come back into view, a growing dark speck on the white horizon, and she knew the hare must have made its escape. ‘I never . . . thought . . . of it . . . that way . . .’ she panted.
He pushed himself backwards along the tracks again, stopping beside her. ‘Well, hey, what do I know? It’s just a thought.’
She blinked, looking at him. ‘But it’s a nice thought . . . A really nice thought.’
He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, and she felt something inside her relax at the sight of him. She remembered something Ronnie had said once about how she felt full of sharp corners and hard angles when she came back here, never quite fitting in, and for the first time, Meg realized that was how she felt all of the time too, always trying to fit into other people’s moulds . . . But he didn’t judge her or try to force her to be bigger than she felt; he didn’t make her feel small or guilty or stupid. He made her feel soft and languid, witty and clever, interesting, beautiful, brave. She remembered how she’d debated whether to see him talk in New York that weekend, if she could hide out in the crowd. Instead, they were here, the two of them alone in the Canadian wilderness, no hiding possible.
‘You know . . .’ she said, trying to get her breath back. ‘You were in New York the same weekend I was supposed to be there.’
He looked surprised. ‘I was?’
‘Yeah. You were speaking at the public lectures for the Space Grant Consortium.’
He arched an eyebrow, was quiet for a moment. ‘And you know that because . . . ?’
She laughed. ‘I was cyber-stalking you.’
He grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement. ‘So let me get this straight – you were completely stonewalling my emails, but stalking me online?’
She chuckled. ‘Something like that.’
‘Why?’ he laughed. ‘Why the hell didn’t you just write back to me? It drove me half mad not knowing if something had happened to you, or if it was something I’d done.’
‘Well, you’d landed is what you’d done.’
‘Wasn’t that a good thing?’ he asked, baffled.
‘No. It made you real.’ The words were out before she could edit or filter or stop them and as he looked at her, she felt the space between them fill with heat.
‘So you’re saying you didn’t want to meet me?’
She bit her lip and shook her head. ‘Shy.’
‘Shy,’ he repeated, watching her closely. ‘So if you had been in New York, would you have come to see me?’
‘I would have come to see you, but you wouldn’t have seen me.’
He frowned at her riddles. ‘You mean you’d have hidden? Seriously?’
‘Yes, but it didn’t matter in the end because the universe conspired against it and I didn’t end up going at all,’ she said quickly.
‘Oh, I see, so it was the universe stopping you from seeing me?’ he asked, his voice wry.
‘Exactly,’ she chuckled.
‘So then I’ve gone against the laws of the universe coming here to find you?’
‘You didn’t come here to find me,’ she protested. ‘You’re handing out an award.’
He stared back at her, his tracks only twenty centimetres from hers, his body twisted to face her. ‘Meg, I came back from space to find you.’
In the silence that followed, she could hear the tiny crackle of snowflakes shifting on the ground, the whisper of the breeze shaking the trees. His gaze fell to her mouth and before she could react, he had leaned over and kissed her, his hands still on the poles, his feet still planted in the tracks so that only their lips met. Lips and hearts.
He pulled back after a few moments and she looked into his pale eyes.
‘I came all this way to find you and now I hear I’ve got the universe on my tail,’ he murmured, his eyes on her mouth. ‘Should I be worried?’
She swallowed, wanting him to kiss her again. ‘I think we both should.’
She pulled a sickie the next day – not that Dolores, who was busier than she’d ever been, seemed to care; she’d never sounded happier to hear from Meg holding her nose as she bemoaned the sudden cold that had afflicted her overnight – and they drove higher up into the mountains to Lake Louise, an hour away.
Meg drove as Jonas took charge of the music selection, unwrapping and popping toffees into her mouth every few kilometres. The scenery was predictably spectacular, the mountains now freshly dipped in their winter colours, although the famously jade waters of the lake were hidden beneath a duvet of fresh powder and wouldn’t be seen again for another five months. The snow had been pushed back in one large area, revealing the thick ice and creating a skating rink. There were a couple of teams playing ice hockey, with goals set up at either end in one part, and others were curling; but they had just skated – Jonas was very good, having grown up doing exactly this in Norway, but they still held hands as though one of them needed to balance. They tried to do pirouettes – him kissing her when she fell over, her kissing him when he pulled off a spin; they raced each other, with a kiss as the prize, and when he’d chased her around the huge ice-sculpted castle she’d let him catch her, too eager to give him his reward.
But it wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been enough the previous night when she’d dropped him back at his hotel with just a kiss (rather a long, involved one, admittedly) and she was fast running out of self-control. She didn’t care about skating and he didn’t give a damn about seeing the sights. They both knew what they really wanted and by the time they’d driven home again after lunch, they’d almost given up talking altogether; the desire and frustration beginning to be overwhelming, with his body pressed against hers, her hands upon him, every chance they got. The original idea for the afternoon had been for her to introduce him to snowboarding, the way he’d introduced her to cross-country skiing, but that would mean staying on the pistes and they could only get to the cabin by riding over back-country. And when she’d asked if he’d like to see the cabin . . . they both knew what she was really asking.
They were lip-locked all the way up on the chairlift, a snowboard strapped to her foot, skis clipped to his, their cheeks pink with the cold even though their bodies felt hot. And when they got to the top, they skied and boarded straight off the piste, in their jeans, Meg leading the way effortlessly through the trees, her hair flying in loose plaits behind her – she’d never had Tuck or Mitch’s daredevil recklessness but she could get down anything, in any weather condition, with considerable style.
It wasn’t a long run to the cabin, just a technical one, but Jonas was both a good skier and a desperate man and they were there in fifteen minutes.
‘Wow,’ he exclaimed, clipping off his skis, his eyes on the little cabin. It looked especially pretty under the fresh snowfall, only animal tracks by the bottom of the steps betraying any signs of life. ‘It’s so cute.’
‘It is. It is cute,’ she repeated breathlessly as she sat on the step, her eyes on him as she unbuckled her foot from the board harness, quite sure she was going to perish from sexual desperation. ‘Do you want the tour?’
‘Uh, yeah . . . sure,’ he said, sticking his poles in the ground and coming over to her in three strides, just as she got her foot free. She stood up, eyes fixed
to his, and he scooped her into his arms, kissing her again as he carried her towards the door.
It was unlocked.
‘You don’t lock it?’ he murmured, stepping into the hall, kissing her neck, her cheek . . .
‘Don’t need to. The bears haven’t got opposable thumbs,’ she whispered.
His laugh vibrated against her and he let go of her legs so that she was standing again. They were in the hallway, one door to their left, one straight ahead and two to their right.
‘So – main room and kitchen, bathroom, guest room, my room,’ she said quickly, nodding her head towards the various doors.
‘Great tour,’ he grinned, his eyes not taking in anything but her, his hands sliding down her arms and making her shiver. He held her hips, pulling her closer to him. Their bodies were touching from the tips of their noses to their toes. ‘Which is your room?’ he asked, kissing her face.
‘There,’ she whispered, her eyes shut, pointing to his right.
‘Let’s go there then,’ he said, his lips still upon hers as he walked her backwards towards the doorway.
He pulled his jumper over his head, his T-shirt riding up with the movement to expose a flash of toned stomach. Then the T-shirt went too and he was in just his jeans.
She lifted her arms up and he pulled her jumper over her head, taking the T-shirt with it – deliberately, she sensed – so that she was in just her bra. He took one of her plaits and cocked an eyebrow, twirling it playfully between his fingers.
She laughed.
Jonas’s eyes travelled down the length of her, the desperation of a few moments ago suddenly quelled now that they were here; they could take their time. He brushed the backs of his fingers up her tummy, between her breasts, cupping her head against the palm of his hand. ‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured.
She stared up at him, her hand on his chest; she saw him finally take in their surroundings, the room they were standing in, the night sky painted on the ceiling, the radio equipment on the desk. ‘Oh. Yes, that’s . . .’ Her voice faded out.
He looked back at her. ‘It’s strange seeing it at last. I imagined you were in a shed or hut.’
‘No . . . This used to be the study.’
He nodded, his eyes back on the radio rig. ‘It’s incredible to think that’s how we started.’
‘I know.’
He looked at her again and she saw that the urgency had come back. Without saying another word, he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him deeply as he carried her to the bed. They sank down in a tangle of limbs, skin upon skin at last, back in the place where they’d first met – under the stars.
Chapter Thirty-one
Friday 17 November 2017
‘What time is it?’ Meg asked in a panicky voice, her hands sheathed in the oven gloves and an apron on, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Steam was escaping from the lidded saucepans on the hobs and her skin was as flushed as if she’d been in a sauna.
‘Relax. It’s ten to,’ Ronnie said from her curled-up spot on the sofa. ‘And he won’t be early. No one’s ever early.’
‘Shit,’ Meg muttered, turning a circle on the spot, wondering what to do next. She needed to peel the potatoes and finish making the topping for the cobbler, but she hadn’t even put her make-up on yet and she was still in her dressing gown from her shower.
‘You should get dressed first,’ Ronnie called through helpfully, as though reading her mind.
‘Yes, right. Clothes,’ Meg muttered, pulling off the oven gloves and darting towards the back bedroom, just as the door was opened suddenly and an arctic blast chilled her bare legs.
Jack grinned apologetically as he came through with yet another haul of logs. ‘Sorry!’ he said, unable to close the door behind him without setting down the log bag.
Meg ran to the door to shut it, desperate to keep the cold air out, and was startled to see a dark figure coming up the steps.
‘Hey,’ Jonas said, stopping as he saw her standing there, a bottle of wine in his hand.
‘You’re early,’ she whispered, the hem of her short dressing gown flapping at her bare legs as the wind gusted suddenly, blowing snow at his back.
He stepped onto the porch, his hands reaching for her, eyes glittering. ‘Sorry. I just couldn’t wait.’
He leaned down to kiss her and she felt herself sink into him, her arms automatically snaking up around his neck. She felt exactly the same way. The past ten hours had been exquisite torture as he’d been corralled by the festival organizers into fulfilling his official duties – a press conference, a lecture and Q&A session – and every minute without him had dragged. She’d spent her day at work – having made a ‘miraculous recovery’, Dolores had observed – with her eyes glued to the street hoping to catch a glimpse of him, even though she knew he was stuck in private screenings of the category-winning films. But now he was here again and the agony of separation was instantly forgotten, his arms around her, his mouth upon her . . .
‘Meg! Did you shut the door or what?’ Ronnie yelled from the next room.
Meg sprang away from him, breathless, desperate. ‘Y-Yes!’ she called, stepping back so that he could come in.
Jonas grinned, stepping towards her again, his eyes never leaving her, reaching down for another kiss.
‘Jonas is here,’ she called again as they broke away for air.
‘Wow! Prompt much?’ Ronnie yelled back, eliciting a chuckle from Jonas. He pulled off his hat, snowflakes still caught on his hair and light stubble, the fur trim of his parka.
‘Did you get up OK?’ Meg asked, in a deliberately ‘normal’ voice for Ronnie and Jack to overhear. But her eyes were on his mouth again and all she wanted to do was kiss him. So she did.
‘Great. The snowmobile started up first time and those red ribbons tied round the trees are brilliant. You can see them so easily,’ he replied in an equally ‘normal’, slightly-too-loud voice. She had left the snowmobile down in the lock-up for him to use, having taken the chairlift up and skied down to the cabin herself earlier in the afternoon.
He kissed her again.
‘It’s such a nightmare trying to give people directions otherwise,’ she replied, having to resist the urge to laugh between kisses.
‘I can imagine. Well, it really works,’ he said loudly, kissing her again. ‘Good markers.’ Kiss. ‘Great system.’ More kisses . . .
‘Are you coming in or what?’ Ronnie yelled. ‘We’re not having the dinner party out in the hall, you know!’
Jonas chuckled, kissing Meg one last time before unzipping his coat and shrugging it off. She reached to take it from him, hanging it on one of the hooks on the wall and thinking how good he looked in his half-zip navy sweater and jeans. She saw him properly take in the sight of her dressing gown and hockey socks under her apron, scruffy hair . . .
He was kissing her again. Oh, God, why did she have to have Ronnie and Jack staying with her? She loved having them of course, but ugh . . . timing!
They pulled apart just a split second before Jack appeared round the doorway with the empty log sack. ‘Hey! You made it up here OK then?’
He and Jonas shook hands, looking pleased to see each other. ‘Yes. What an incredible location. I literally didn’t see another soul.’
‘I know, right?’ Jack looked at Meg. ‘Where is your nearest neighbour?’
‘There’s no one on this side of the mountain. We’re officially in the nature reserve here. We’ve only got this spot because it belonged to Mitch’s grandfather before they created the reserve.’
‘What kind of “nature” are we talking about?’ Jonas asked, bending down to unlace his boots, which were caked in snow that was rapidly melting and beginning to puddle on the floor.
‘Oh, cougars, wolves, bears . . . You know, all the cuddly, cute animals,’ Meg quipped.
‘Let me just put this bag back in the log store,’ Jack said, heading for the door again. ‘Then I’ll open some wine.’
>
‘Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour – all five seconds of it,’ Meg said loudly for the benefit of her sister and stopping at the doorway of the first bedroom – her old one, which Ronnie and Jack had been staying in and was now more like an archaeological dig, with detritus and strewn clothes everywhere. ‘The guest room. What can I say? My sister is a pig.’
‘I heard that!’ Ronnie called, still not moving off her spot on the sofa.
‘And then, this is my room.’ She couldn’t keep the smile off her mouth as he arched an eyebrow and kissed her again. No one knew he’d been up here already, that he’d slept in this room, in that bed with her last night; that they’d had breakfast together, that she’d driven down with him on the snowmobile this morning with her arms wrapped around his waist; that they’d succumbed to each other again in the jeep in the tiny lock-up before he’d had to drive into town . . .
Hearing Jack’s boots on the porch steps, they pulled apart again and wandered into the main room.
‘Don’t mind her,’ Meg grinned as she passed her sprawled-out sister. ‘She’s depressed about going back tomorrow.’
Jack chuckled as he followed in after them. ‘She’s decided, after years of medical training, that actually being a lady of leisure suits her.’
‘I don’t want to go back to work,’ Ronnie moaned, dramatically flinging an arm over her face for a moment before huffing and finally getting up.
‘Me either,’ Jonas said, kissing her on the cheek.
‘When are you going?’ Ronnie asked him.
He glanced at Meg. ‘I’m flying to Washington on Sunday morning.’
Ronnie looked over at Meg – did she suspect something? – and Meg suddenly felt obliged to say something. ‘Well, at least you’ll get to see who wins the festival,’ she said with false cheer, as if that was the main reason for his presence here.
‘Yes.’
Ronnie’s eyebrows shot up at the silence that lingered and wriggled and stretched. ‘Well, why don’t we have some wine and you can get dressed,’ she said pointedly to her sister. ‘Unless this is actually a sleepover party and we’re all going to do our nails?’