by Donna Alward
He spun on a heel, jogged down the few steps of the gazebo and took off across the white expanse of the park, his steps quick and purposeful.
Adele stood there for a while, watching him go. Eight and a half years ago, he’d had to watch her walk away. And now it was her turn.
CHAPTER NINE
THE HOT SHOWER did nothing to wash away the mess of emotions roiling through his head and stomach.
Delly couldn’t have children.
She’d lied about why she was leaving him.
God, she’d gone through that all alone.
She’d taken the choice away from him when he hadn’t even realized there was a choice to be made.
The last two were the ones that hurt him the most. That she’d unilaterally made a decision that would affect both their lives without even considering he should have a say in it hit him square in the gut. A part of him had wanted to ask, “Who do you think you are?” but he’d held it inside, the words jumbled together like a mouth full of marbles.
And then there was the fact that she’d had cancer and had been all alone through surgery, recovery, radiation...had she had chemo, too? He didn’t know. Through the fear and uncertainty and days that she must have felt so ill. He couldn’t get the images out of his head—her on an operating table, hooked up to an IV for chemo. Her hair...had it fallen out?
And he’d been off with his friends and family, angry as a mad hornet, nursing his emotional wounds.
If only she’d told him. Trusted him.
He toweled off and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. What was he going to do now? Sit in his hotel room for hours, doing nothing? Why had he thought a week alone was a good idea? The idea of spending the rest of the week here by himself was no longer alluring. It was just...lonely.
What he should do is pack his stuff and head to Calgary, spend a few extra days in the office and then go back to Toronto. Leave all this behind him.
He pulled out his suitcase, put it on the bed and then went to the drawers of the dresser and started taking items out. He’d finished with the dresser and had moved on to the closet when a knock came at his door.
He paused, his hands holding a sweater about eight inches from the case. Holly and Pete were off on their honeymoon. Unless it was staff, there was really no one except...
Adele. She knew which room was his. She’d slept here, for God’s sake.
He put the sweater on the bed and moved to the door. He looked through the peephole, and sure enough, there she was, her face red and her lips a little puffy, as if she’d been crying. He closed his eyes for a moment and considered not opening the door. He could pretend he wasn’t here. Avoid having another disastrous conversation.
There was a raspy sound by his feet, and he looked down to see a slip of paper slide under his door. It was face-up, and simply had the words “I’m sorry” written on it.
What a mess. What a horrible, horrible mess.
He opened the door.
She’d turned to walk away, but swiveled back at the sound of the door opening. He stood there, meeting her eyes, and wondered how a love that had once been so simple and straightforward was now so complicated and painful.
Cancer, he realized. If it hadn’t been for the cancer, he would have put a ring on her finger.
He held out the paper. “I know you’re sorry.”
She came back, her steps cautious and her red-rimmed eyes wary. “I didn’t want to leave things like we did this afternoon.” She took the paper from his fingers. “And we’ve said that to each other more than once this week. Do you think we could...?” She halted, her lower lip wobbling a bit. “Do you suppose we could get it right this time and go our separate ways without one of us getting super angry?”
He stepped back and opened the door wider, a silent invitation for her to enter.
She stepped inside, but halted by the door and looked at her feet. “Should I take off my boots? I don’t want to track snow and dirt onto your carpet.”
“Sure,” he answered. What else was he going to say? Even now, as she bent over to unfasten her boots, he kept picturing her in a hospital bed. He hadn’t been there. And he hadn’t because she’d shut him out. That hurt him more than anything.
She stood straight again and spied the case on the bed. “You’re packing.” Her lips turned down in a frown.
“I was, yes,” he agreed, going back to the bed. He tossed in the sweater, closed the lid and placed the case on the suitcase rack near the closet. “Banff is suddenly feeling very small. I thought I’d spend a few extra days in Calgary. Check out the new offices. See how things are going there.”
“I see.”
His gaze met hers. Lord, she looked so sad. A part of him wanted to reach out, fold her into his arms and tell her it was okay. The other part wanted to shout at her for not giving him a chance to be the man she’d needed.
“Dan, I...” She hesitated for a moment, but then seemed to find her words. “I’m just so sorry. About all of it.”
“We were young. And you were in a highly stressful situation.”
She nodded, looking relieved. “I was. Looking back, I can see how maybe I shouldn’t have made such big decisions in that state of mind. I just knew how much you wanted kids. How big your whole family is on it, and I pictured us as the one couple without any. It seemed so unfair to you.”
He nodded, trying to stay calm. “I should have been in on that decision, though. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I... I was afraid I’d give in, you see,” she said quietly. “That you’d convince me it didn’t matter. You’d say all the right things and I’d love you even more, but then...you’d start to resent me. It would kill our relationship. And that would have killed me, you know? To have more of you. To believe in...forever. I couldn’t. I was just...afraid.”
She took a step forward. “I was afraid of everything. And so I isolated myself.” Her lips dropped open. “I never realized that before. I cut myself off from everyone. Not just you. Everybody.”
He understood what she was saying, even if he didn’t agree with it. And he wasn’t a heartless jerk; he could see she had anguished over it. However angry he was—and had been—he knew this was not something she’d done without thought or feeling. “We would have supported you. Been there for you.”
She nodded. Her lip trembled.
“Aw, hell,” he murmured, and did what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. He pulled her into his embrace and held on tightly.
* * *
Adele let out the breath she’d been holding at the feel of his arms around her. This was wrong, so wrong. It would just add to the confusion. But since he’d shown up here last Thursday, nothing had been straightforward. She’d been fighting the memories of the past—not just of their relationship and breakup but those horrible, horrible days before and after, when she’d faced the grim reality of illness, recovery and loss.
And she’d turtled. Withdrawn into herself. At the time, she’d thought she was reserving her strength. Focusing. But that wasn’t it. She had been fighting but she’d also been running away.
Now she wondered if she’d ever actually stopped running, or just set up her life so that there was nothing to run from. Simple. No attachments other than Mr. Num-Nums.
“I’m sorry, Dan. I’m so sorry.”
“What for?” he asked gently. “It’s not like you asked to get sick. Or wanted this to happen.”
“For hurting you. For maybe making the wrong choices, even if they were for the right reasons.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “For not being strong enough.”
He put his hands on her upper arms and pushed her away a little, then bent his knees so they were eye to eye. “Don’t say that again. You’re one of the strongest people I know. Misguided, maybe,” he added, a small smile, curving his lips. “But never w
eak.”
“Oh, I’m weak,” she said, swallowing hard. “I ran away.” And weak because she was loving the feel of his fingers on her arms just now. Had loved being in his arms just moments ago. It was a sensation both exciting and familiar. How many times had he held her when things had gotten tough? When she’d feared she’d bombed a midterm or paper? When she’d caught a horrible cold just before Christmas finals? Or even just simple things, like spilling a cup of coffee or stepping in a puddle, soaking her foot? His arms had always been there.
And she’d thrown that away out of fear. Telling herself it was best for him, but really afraid that she would never be enough to make him happy.
He took her hand and led her to the little sofa. “Come and sit down. I think we’ve finished yelling at each other. Do you want some tea? Some food? You hardly touched your lunch.”
She shook her head. “Though if you want to make coffee in your little machine, that would be fine.”
“Sounds good.”
He readied the water and coffee pod and she took the few moments to steady herself. When he came back over with a cup fixed the way she liked, she smiled up at him. “Thank you. For hearing me out. For not hating me.”
He turned away to make his own coffee, but his voice reached her just fine. “I haven’t walked in your shoes, Delly. I’ll admit I was angry. Am still a little angry, to be honest, but that’s because I was...am...shocked. I’m trying to put myself in your shoes. What would I do if I got a devastating diagnosis? And the truth is, I just don’t know. So I’m trying to wrap my head around it and not judge.”
He came back to the sofa with his coffee and sat beside her. “All I can say,” he continued, “is that the thought of you being so sick and alone hurts me, right in here.” He made a fist and placed it just below his breastbone. “And I’m so sorry that you can’t have children. I know you wanted them.”
The want wasn’t exactly in past tense; Adele still got twinges of pain and sadness whenever someone she knew announced a pregnancy or had a new baby. She’d got better, though, at accepting her reality. There was no sense wishing things were different, because they would never be different.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. She wanted to reach for his hand but didn’t; there was making peace and then there was...being too intimate. Instead she cradled her cup and inhaled the rich-scented steam. “But there’s still time for you. I know you want children. Your face, when you told me about your nieces and nephews...you lit up. There must be a special woman back in Toronto.”
He turned his head and his gaze caught hers. “No,” he admitted, “there’s not. I mean, I’ve dated, but it’s never been serious. Not like...that,” he finished.
But she wondered if he’d been going to say “us.”
The room was quiet, too quiet after his statement, and the silence filled with something new, or perhaps something old that was renewed. She found herself staring into his eyes, her lungs cramping as she struggled to breathe. Attraction. Now that the anger and fear were gone, there was room for old feelings to be resurrected. And that scared her horribly.
She turned away and took a sip of her coffee, while Dan cleared his throat, pushing the moment away.
She stayed for an hour, answering his questions about her illness. All the things she should have told him years ago and hadn’t. It was difficult, but when it was over, she felt better, stronger. Holding it in, never telling anyone...it hadn’t been good for her, she realized. In a way, she’d been living her life holding her breath. Working at a job she loved but always with this thing hanging over her.
And yet, in another way, it brought the truth right to the surface again, and it hurt.
The afternoon was waning, and the sun had long since disappeared behind the mountains. She brushed her hands down her jeans and stood up, letting out a big breath. “I really should go. I meant to work this afternoon, and I didn’t. I can catch up on some things tonight. Besides, you probably have plans.” She looked over at him as he stood, too. “Are you still going to leave and go back to Calgary?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It was a knee-jerk reaction because I was frustrated. I don’t feel the need to blast off like I did earlier.” He smiled a little, and it sent a little beam of light into her heart. He always did have a great smile.
“It’s a nice city.”
“It is, but I’d still be there alone. I guess there are some people in the office, but...”
“But this was supposed to be a vacation.”
“Yeah.”
She moved to the door, grabbing her coat off a chair as she went. “I don’t remember when I last took a vacation. Any time it’s high travel or tourist season, it’s also high wedding season.”
“Understandable.” He picked up a glove that had dropped from her coat pocket onto the floor and handed it to her. “But how about playing hooky? Do you ever do that?”
She laughed. “Not really. It’s not my style. I just tend to take Sundays off.”
“After the wedding, time to recoup?”
She nodded, shoving her arms into the sleeves of her coat.
He stepped closer. “Play hooky with me tomorrow. I know it sounds crazy,” he added. She’d snapped her head up in the middle of zipping the zipper, surprised at his offer. “I want to go skiing and I don’t want to spend the whole day alone. You do ski, don’t you?”
She did, and hadn’t gone more than once all season. But a day with Dan? She laughed. “What, today’s emotional roller coaster hasn’t been enough for you?”
He smiled again. “I know. It’s weird. But it might be nice to spend some time together without either being angry or apologizing for something. No strings, Delly. Nothing heavy. Just a day on the slopes. The weather’s supposed to be good and it’s midweek. Shouldn’t be too crowded. At least I’d have someone to talk to on the lifts.”
It was tempting. Very tempting. She’d made it out once in December and that was it, which was a travesty considering the world-class hills all around her. And he was right. It wasn’t like they’d actually talk much, except on the lifts back to the top.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Either Sunshine or Lake Louise.”
Her two favorite hills.
But this was Dan. The man she’d once considered to be The One. The man whose presence had tortured her for nearly a week now.
But also an old friend. And they’d used to enjoy the outdoors together.
“Okay. One day of skiing, only because I haven’t been out all month. But that’s all the time I can afford to take off. And only because it’s sad to think of you doing that all alone.”
His smile widened.
“I knew you’d take pity on me. Do you want to take the shuttle bus? I know it leaves from the lobby entrance in the morning.”
She shook her head. “No, let’s take my car. I’ve got a rack on the top. I can pick you up around nine if you want.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He held open the door for her and she stepped into the hallway. “I’m glad we talked, Dan. It feels so much better.”
“Me too. It was hard. Hard for you and hard to hear. But I’m starting to understand. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She walked down the hall, a sense of unease following her. Maybe he was starting to understand, but she wasn’t sure she was. Because this afternoon seemed to change a lot of things, and she didn’t quite know how to feel about it.
* * *
Adele arrived at the hotel a few minutes before nine, her skis strapped to the top of the car and her poles and boots in the back. She waited out front, wondering if she should text Dan that she’d arrived when he strode out the door, looking like an ad for winter sportswear. Her pants and jacket were good quality, but Dan’s were top of the line. He held a cardboard tray with drinks in his hand, a small pa
per bag nestled between them. A pair of goggles rested on the top of his hat and a string bag was slung over his shoulder. When he saw her car, a smile brightened his lips.
Her heart thumped in response. Not in a million years had she thought she’d be spending a day on the slopes with her ex. It just went to show that life was unpredictable.
He opened the car door and slid inside. “Perfect timing. I saw you pull up just as I was getting coffee.” He handed her the tray to hold while he fastened his seat belt. “Thought we could use it for the road. Where are we going?”
“I thought Lake Louise. I went to Sunshine last month. It’s not a long drive.”
“I haven’t been there since I was a kid, and it was summer.”
“I can take you to the Chateau after if you like, if you want to see the glacier and the lake.”
“Maybe. We’ll see how the day goes. I haven’t been skiing for a while.” He put the cups in the cup holders, and then tapped his legs. “These might give out before the end of the day.”
She doubted it. Even though he had ski pants on, she knew the thighs beneath were strong. Like the rest of him. She’d gotten a good look the morning after she’d stayed in his hotel room.
She sipped on her coffee as they reached the highway and headed west. The drive really wasn’t very long, and it was beautiful. He broke off pieces of walnut muffin and handed them to her, and they talked about skiing and other noncontroversial subjects until they reached their destination.
Parking was close to the lodges at the bottom, and Dan hit the pro shop to rent his equipment, while Adele took her skis off the roof rack and slid into her ski boots. They met out front of the main lodge. Dan’s cheeks were rosy from the brisk air, but it was a beautiful day for rushing down the slopes, just a few degrees Celsius below freezing and the barest of breezes.
“You ready?” she asked, flopping her skis down on the snow and then stepping her feet into them with quick snaps.
“I am. I’ll let you pick the run since this is my first time.”