“Jason, please...” Carrie said, beginning to be frightened. He sounded very certain, very final.
He raised both fists in the air. “Can’t you hear me? We’ve been kidding ourselves; this will never work out the way it should. Find yourself some professor or poet or somebody else suitable. I’ve broken you in nicely; you shouldn’t have any trouble now.”
Carrie gasped, unable to believe he’d said it. Her feet seemed nailed to the floor and evidently she wasn’t departing fast enough to suit him. He decided to speed her along.
“Get the message?” he spat, raising his brows in inquiry. “I don’t want you. Do you think I ever did— a skinny little schoolmarm who can’t even make love to a man properly? You were something new, a curiosity, that’s all. For an educated woman you’re certainly ignorant in a few very important areas. I’m tired of stringing you along, lady, you’re too much damn work.”
Carrie didn’t cry. She was too shocked by his cruelty to react normally. She turned stiffly and made it to the door, her legs moving automatically. She picked up her coat, gloves and purse as if floating in a dream. With her hand on the knob she turned and faced him.
“Your pride is more important to you than my love, Jason,” she said, in a voice that she managed to keep steady with an extreme effort. “When I heard the truth about your relationship with Louise I thought our difficulties were over. I see now that you have other problems you have to solve on your own. I’ve tried to be understanding but I don’t deserve to be treated like this. No one does. Goodbye.” She went out quietly and pulled the door closed behind her.
Jason stared at the door for several long seconds. Then, like a man who has lost his last hope, he slumped to the table and buried his head on his arms.
Chapter 10
Carrie didn’t hear from Jason after that. Christmas came and went, made bearable by a visit from Jim and his family. She sent a gift—a set of books about horses—to Johnny, and received a politely worded thank-you note three days later. There was no message from his father.
She decided to take advantage of a teachers’ ski package and go to a resort in Vermont over the vacation. She didn’t ski but the reduced rates would make it possible for her to get away and think about her situation. Or lack of one. She left two days after Christmas and planned to return the day after the New Year’s holiday.
Once Carrie got to Burlington, she did begin to feel better. The imitation Swiss chalet was one the likes of which would never be found in Switzerland, but she actually enjoyed the tacky fake beams in the ceiling and the Alpine costumes worn by the staff. Her room was beautiful and spacious, overlooking the slopes, with a stone fireplace and a sunken tub in the bathroom. She took walks in the cold air, read a lot, and ate dinner alone in her room, declining the offers of company which sometimes came her way. In the evenings she would stare into the fire and remember her time with Jason. It was odd how much he enjoyed making a fire on the hearth in his living room when he feared fire so much elsewhere. Maybe he liked being able to control it. And he was always playing with his lighter and searching for matches. But he was a contradiction in many ways, and in the end it was that aspect of his personality which had undone both of them.
As the New Year drew closer Carrie contemplated a return to her old life, and it was not a prospect she relished.
* * * *
Ten days after the fire in his barn Jason sat in his darkened living room, watching the lights on his Christmas tree blink on and off. An inch of Scotch remained in the bottom of his glass and he swirled the amber liquid in a circle, studying the play of gold and shadow in its depths. He looked up to see his son poised in the doorway, leaning on his crutch. He was still wearing a small ankle cast, but that was due to come off the following week. I wish I could heal as readily, Jason thought, and then called out to the boy, who was turning to move away.
“What’s up, John?”
Johnny shrugged. “Nothing, Dad. I just wondered if you were going to sit there all afternoon.”
“Quite possibly,” Jason replied, swallowing the rest of his drink.
Johnny sighed. “Then could I go over to Mark’s house? His mother will pick me up. He has a new train set.”
“Fine, Son, if that’s what you want.”
Johnny watched his father a moment longer and then said, “Dad, I sure do miss Carrie.”
“You’re not the only one,” Jason answered quietly, running his fingertip around the rim of the empty glass.
“Why don’t we see her anymore?” Johnny asked meaningfully.
Jason put down his glass with a bang. “Because your father is a jackass, John.”
“Oh,” Johnny answered, unsure how to reply. “Did you two have a fight?”
“It wasn’t a fight,” Jason said. “It was an assault. I assaulted, without provocation, a kind and generous, beautiful and tolerant, exceptional lady who had given me nothing but love and understanding. That’s why I’m a jackass.”
Johnny hadn’t quite followed his father’s last statement but he gathered that Jason was holding himself responsible for the breach. “Why don’t you go and talk to her, Dad?”
Jason hauled himself out of his chair with an effort. “Because, my boy, she would be entirely justified in shooting me on sight.”
“Come on, Dad. You know how nice she is. She’ll listen. You’ve been moping around here ever since the night of the fire. Rose thinks you need vitamins. I think you need Carrie.”
“I think you’re right,” Jason replied.
“Then call her.”
“I’ve tried calling her. There’s no answer. She must be away. I wouldn’t blame her if she had left the country to get away from me.”
“Can you find out where she went?”
Jason opened his hands. “Her best friend is on tour; I wouldn’t know where to reach her. She has a brother in California but I don’t know his address.”
The two McClain men stared at each other.
“I could call your principal, Mr. Dunphy. He would have her brother’s address,” Jason said suddenly.
“That’s it!” Johnny replied excitedly. “Tell him it’s an emergency or something. He knows you’ve been going out with Carrie. She brought you to that teacher’s thing last month, remember?”
“I’d have to be very persuasive,” Jason mused slowly. “That man has a civil servant’s mentality; he’s cautious.”
“Try it, go on.”
Jason tried it. He called the Board offices, which were closed, but a secretary connected him with a receptionist who was working fill-in duty over the holidays. She had a list of teachers’ home addresses and numbers, with a person to contact in case of emergency. Jason didn’t have to call Dunphy after all. It took some doing, but no one could surpass Jason in charm when he was deliberately trying to be charming. The woman finally surrendered Jim’s phone number in California and Jason had his wife on the line in two minutes.
Unfortunately, Carrie had told Jim all about Jason at Christmas, and Jim’s wife would have been more likely to give Carrie’s location to Satan than to Jason. He spent twenty minutes convincing the woman that he’d had a change of heart and was trying to locate Carrie to apologize. When she finally gave him the address of Carrie’s lodge in Vermont, he let out a whoop she could have heard in Palos Verdes without benefit of the phone. He scribbled it down and returned to the living room, where John was reading one of the books Carrie had sent him.
“John, I’m going to ask Rose to take you to her house when you’re through at Mark’s. I may be gone awhile.”
Johnny nodded. Rose had a son who was two years older than Johnny and knew a lot of interesting things as a result. John’s time there was never wasted.
Jason made the call to Rose and then threw some clothes and shaving things into a bag, waiting impatiently until Mark’s mother picked up his son. Then he followed her car out of the lane, heading north at the turn.
It started to snow while he was driving on the inte
rstate, and by the time he reached the Burlington exit the storm had gathered force, white powder almost obscuring the road. He pulled off into a gas station to ask directions, wondering two things: why Carrie had to retreat to the wilds of Vermont, and why he had waited until the middle of a blizzard to track her down.
Like most ski lodges, the Swiss chalet was jammed into a crevasse between two mountains, almost inaccessible in good weather and impossible to reach in bad. He left his car at the foot of one of the slopes and climbed up to the lodge, resolving to stop smoking with every step. When he reached the lobby he looked around for the reception desk, bypassing the après-ski crowd surrounding the open fireplace and lounging on the couches scattered about the bar. The air was thick with the smell of drying wool and verdant evergreens. He collared a clerk at the desk and asked for Carrie’s room. The man rang it but there was no answer.
“Do you know where she is?” Jason asked anxiously. “Is she at dinner? Is there a message in her box?”
The clerk checked it. “There’s no message. I doubt she’s in the restaurant; she’s been taking most of her meals in her room.”
“Is there no way I can reach her?”
The man shrugged. “You can wait in the lounge.”
Jason had never been big on waiting. “No, no. Look, I’m her...fiancé. Can’t you let me into her room?”
The clerk shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. Company policy forbids...”
Jason ripped a fifty out of his wallet and shoved it under the man’s nose. “Give me the house key. And don’t tell her I took it.”
The clerk gave him the key. The room was on the second floor. He disdained the elevator, charging past the ten-foot Christmas tree at the base of the staircase. He took the stairs two at a time and let himself into Carrie’s room.
A few of her personal items were scattered about and he knew he was in the right place. He picked up the house phone and began ordering dinner with his VISA card: filet mignon, champagne, strawberries in cream for dessert. He finished reading from the menu and asked for a dozen roses to be brought up to the room. When told that was impossible he settled for a dozen carnations. Carrie was more the carnations type anyway. He asked to have an attendant start the fire in the fireplace, and after the boy had left he relocked the door so Carrie wouldn’t know anyone was inside when she returned.
The dinner arrived before Carrie did. Jason made a cursory inspection of the covered dishes and deduced that the dessert was missing. He told room service to hold it for later and put in a follow up request for the flowers, which also hadn’t appeared. Then he sat down to wait.
An hour passed before he heard Carrie turning her key in the lock. He dashed into the bathroom and listened at the door.
Silence reigned for a few minutes. Then he heard her on the phone, reporting that someone had sent a dinner cart to the wrong room. Jason stepped out of the bathroom and took the phone from Carrie’s hand as she gaped at him in surprise.
“This is Mr. McClain in 212. I ordered the dinner sent to Miss Maxwell’s room, but the food is cold now. Could you send someone up with a warmer for it?” He replaced the receiver and faced Carrie, who had adjusted to his presence and was watching him in silence.
She was wearing a snow parka with a fur rim on the hood. It surrounded her face, which was stained pink from her walk in the brisk air.
“Jason, what are you doing here?” she finally said, unzipping her jacket.
“I came to tell you I’m an idiot,” he replied.
“You’ll get no argument from me.” She pulled off her jacket, sidestepping Jason as he moved to help her with it. She dropped the coat and her mittens on a chair. The fire beckoned and she walked to the hearth, extending her hands to it, not looking at Jason.
He followed and stood behind her, putting his hand on her shoulder. It stiffened under his fingers and his stomach knotted. This was going to be as difficult as he had feared.
“Carrie, I’m sorry,” he said softly, unable to think of anything more elaborate to convey what he was feeling.
“I believe you are,” Carrie answered slowly, still staring into the fire. “At this moment, you’re sorry.”
“What does that mean?” Jason asked, frustrated at her unyielding reception. Maybe he deserved it but it still wasn’t easy to bear.
She faced him finally, her eyes thoughtful. “It means that this has a familiar ring, Jason. You’ve calmed down and your need for me is outweighing your pride or whatever is causing the problems between us. But what happens the next time a crisis arises and you start to worry about how you look in my eyes? Will you do it again, turn on me because you have weaknesses and failings like every other human being? You’re not perfect, and you can’t forgive yourself for it. I’m tired of being your punching bag because you set impossible standards for yourself that only a superman could meet. I can’t live on a roller coaster, Jason. I won’t.”
Jason dropped his eyes, saying nothing. He had feared that he’d pushed her too far this time. There was a knock at the door and Jason went to admit a waiter who had brought a warmer for the food. When the man left Jason sat down in the fireside chair across from the one Carrie had occupied.
“So that’s it?” he said dully. “You can just turn your back on everything we had together?”
“You turned your back on it,” Carrie said evenly. “The night of the fire in the barn you sent me away and said…”
“Please don’t repeat what I said,” he interrupted her, putting one hand to his forehead and rubbing it. “The words are engraved in my brain; I hear them in my nightmares.”
“I thought you were finished with bad dreams,” Carrie said.
“As soon as you left they returned,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t leave, Jason. You drove me away. Nothing in the world could have separated me from you except you.”
“All right!” he responded angrily, standing and beginning to pace. “I know that! Don’t you think I know that? Do you have to hit me over the head with it when I’m trying to apologize?”
“You have apologized, and I accept.”
Jason gazed at her set, calm face and surrendered. “I see,” he said softly. “No second thoughts, no second chance.” He reached for the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket, his hand shaking.
Carrie’s aloof facade crumbled when she saw him grabbing helplessly for his crutch. She got up and went to him, taking the pack from his fingers.
“You won’t need these, Jason. I’m not going to throw you out. I haven’t been doing too well without you either.”
He was still for a moment and then took a deep, cautious breath. When his gaze met hers the lost, despairing expression was gone from his eyes.
“I really thought you were finished with me,” he whispered.
“How could I be finished with you?” Carrie asked. “I love you, Jason.”
Jason closed his eyes briefly and then pulled her roughly into his arms. “Then why have you been giving me such a bad time?” he demanded between clenched teeth. He bunched her hair in his fist and tugged on it, pulling her head back so that he could look into her face.
“Because everything I just said to you is true,” Carrie answered. “And you needed to hear it.”
Jason bent and kissed her with deliberate slowness and she melted, as he had known she would.
“No fair,” she whispered when he released her.
Another person knocked and delivered the flowers. Jason got rid of the messenger in a hurry and handed the bunch of pink and white blooms to Carrie.
“Thank you,” she said, holding the gift to her cheek and inhaling its sweet fragrance. “Is anything else going to arrive?”
“I hope not,” Jason replied, so fervently that she had to laugh.
Jason filled an empty vase standing on the dresser with water and took the flowers from Carrie, jamming them into the vessel while they were still enclosed in their protective green paper.
“Jason!�
� Carrie cried. “Look what you’re doing to the flowers!”
“Forget the flowers,” he mumbled, standing the vase on the end table next to the bed. “Come here and listen to me. I have some things to say. I was afraid there for a while that I wasn’t going to get the chance to say them.” He took both of her hands and led her to the edge of the bed, where she sat gingerly and waited for him to continue.
He dropped to one knee while she gazed at him in wonder.
“What are you doing?” she asked, giggling.
“What does it look like?” he answered, annoyed.
“It looks like you’re getting ready to deliver a Shakespearean monologue,” Carrie said. “On the advice of a bad director.”
He got up. “That’s what I get for trying to be romantic,” he muttered.
Carrie grabbed his arm and guided him to sit next to her. “Oh, darling, don’t be ridiculous. You’re always romantic; you don’t need to assume poses. Don’t you realize that?” She kissed his cheek.
He surveyed her suspiciously. “Can I get on with this?” he asked.
Carrie arranged herself comfortably. “By all means.” She had waited a long time for this speech and she was going to enjoy it.
“This time without you has been hell,” he began.
She nodded, encouraging him.
“And I’ve been thinking a lot. I know I’ve been difficult. I haven’t tried to be but somehow it worked out that way. You do believe I never meant to hurt you, don’t you?”
“Yes, Jason. I believe you.”
He sighed. “The point, if I can ever get to it, is that I know I can change if you’re with me. I’ll work at it, I promise. Will you marry me?”
Carrie hesitated. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”
He looked confused. “What? A ring? I didn’t have time but we’ll get one as soon as we get back to town. We’ll go to Johnston’s. You can pick out whatever you want, okay?”
“I don’t want a ring, Jason.”
“No? Then what is it?”
“There’s something you never told me.”
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