The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set)

by Phoebe Alexander

  ***

  The next day Sarah drove to BWI to pick up her brother Adam who was flying in from Seattle for the holidays. Their mother and the kids were waiting at home, cooking up Adam’s very favorite meal. “For a gay guy, I sure suck at cooking,” he always joked. He didn’t get to see his mother and sister often, but when he did, he very much relished their culinary expertise. Sarah waited in the cell phone lot for Adam’s call to tell her his plane had landed. Sure enough, at 12:07 on the dot her phone rang.

  The deep voice of her baby brother came through on the other line, “Hi, I guess I switched coasts. I feel a little disoriented!” he chuckled exuberantly.

  Sarah laughed too. “I’ll be right there!”

  The security guard was shooing the pair away from the curb after a prolonged Welcome to Maryland Hug. This was Adam’s first trip to visit his mom and sister since they’d moved for Sarah’s job. She stepped away and took a good look at him: taller than she remembered, same old flannel shirt, maybe a few pounds heavier, and he’d let his hair grow out. “Oh god, Adam, you have a beard? What’s up with that?”

  Adam nearly blushed. “A certain someone happens to like the scruffy mountain man look!” he gushed as he climbed into Sarah’s Toyota.

  Sarah drove away amid a nasty stare from the guard who’d shooed them. “A certain someone? Oh, for fuck’s sake, you don’t need to be all elusive with me!”

  Adam laughed again. Sarah loved his laugh; he bellowed deep from his diaphragm, like he was expelling gold. She’d missed that laugh so much since she’d moved out East. She hadn’t seen Adam for a year now. They’d gone back to Colorado to visit him for the holidays the previous year, but since then he’d moved to Seattle for a new job, and apparently had acclimated quite well to the Pacific Northwest.

  “Okay, okay,” Adam relented. “His name is Brandon and he’s 27 and gorgeous. He’s a software engineer. We just moved in together!”

  “Oh my god, Adam, that’s awesome! I trust you’ll share pictures with us when we get back to my house. Why didn’t he come with you?”

  “Well, we talked about it and he wanted to go see his family in Cali, and of course I wanted to see you guys. We thought this year we should go see our families separately and next year maybe we can go together,” Adam explained. “There is one problem on his end though,” he said after a short pause.

  “What’s that?” Sarah asked, already having a feeling she knew.

  “He’s not really out to his family yet,” Adam replied. Sarah could hear the disappointment in his voice and glancing over, even in a fraction of a second that her focus left the highway, she could see it in his dark eyes.

  They caught up on Adam’s life and Sarah heard probably more than she ever wanted to about Brandon. Even though there was a bit of wistfulness that they couldn’t be as open as Adam would like, Sarah still got the impression that he was very happy. They pulled into her driveway and the kids and Kathy ran out to meet him. Soon Adam was covered in Lyndes and one Taylor, all embracing their favorite son, brother, uncle.

  That night at dinner, Sarah’s feeling of gratitude was so immense, it swelled up inside her like a dam about to burst. My family may be small, she thought, thinking of James gathered around a huge table with his parents, sisters and their families, but it’s totally awesome.

  ***

  On Christmas morning, Sarah glanced at the alarm clock and was surprised to see the green numbers announcing 7:04 as the time. Since when do my kids sleep this late on Christmas morning? she wondered. They had been up late the night before playing board games with her, her mom and Uncle Adam. And maybe this means they are growing up, she thought with a bittersweet twinge. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and saw she had three texts.

  From Pawel: Merry Christmas, sweetheart! Going to call you later! *kisses*

  From Rachel: OMG!!!! Big news! Might drop by after the kids open presents.

  From James: Merry Xmas! :)

  She replied in the order she received them:

  To Pawel: Same to you darling! Talk to you soon xoxo

  To Rachel: Wow sounds exciting! Come over whenever!

  To James: Merry Christmas, handsome. I’ll call you later. Xoxo

  Well, James is sending texts with emoticons, she observed, I guess that’s a step in the right direction. She shook her head and smiled. Maybe he’s a lost cause. Then she distracted herself by wondering what was going on with Rachel as she made her way down the stairs. She started to hear some stirring from the upstairs bedrooms. The house felt cold so she turned up the thermostat and headed into the kitchen to start the coffee.

  That’s when she heard the thunder of 10- and 15- year-old feet thumping down the wooden stairs. “You two sound like a herd of elephants!” Sarah exclaimed, glad to see the happy and expectant grins of her children appearing in the kitchen.

  “Is it time yet?” Owen prodded.

  “We’ve got to wait for Uncle Adam and Grandma,” Abby admonished her brother and Sarah nodded. Owen ran off to see if Uncle Adam was still asleep on the futon in the den. Kathy wandered in just as Owen ran out. Abby threw her arms around her grandmother and kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Grandma!”

  “Merry Christmas to you, pretty girl!” Kathy returned her kiss. She grabbed a mug from the cabinet and waited for the coffee pot to fill. Sarah was busy putting some cinnamon rolls in the oven and unloading the dishwasher.

  Owen returned in minutes with a bleary-eyed Uncle Adam in tow. “We’re ready!” Owen shouted excitedly and dragged Sarah’s brother out into the living room. Kathy and Sarah filled their coffee mugs and joined the children in the living room as well.

  Sarah was on Auto Pilot watching everyone open their gifts. She felt like she was observing from a spot on the ceiling, not really in the moment as an active participant. Christmases had been hard since her divorce. She supposed it’s because she had too long retained that idyllic vision of a traditional family, complete with mother, father, daughter, son, something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. I’m never going to have that again, she predicted as Owen tore into yet another toy. Then she rephrased, editing out the word “again.” I never had that with Daniel either. We were far from happy, she admitted, wondering where all the nostalgia was coming from.

  An hour later, Sarah was cleaning up the wrapping-papered aftermath when the back door handle twisted admitting Rachel and Thomas to the house. Sarah heard Rachel’s bright voice call out, “Merry Christmas, everyone!” Thomas had an arsenal of nerf guns sticking out of a backpack strapped to his posterior. Rachel was glowing. Christmas spirit? Sarah pondered and quickly intuited there was something else. She glanced down at her left hand and saw the source of her glow immediately.

  “Nothing gets by you,” Rachel laughed, noticing that Sarah’s attention was already drawn to her finger. She held out her hand, “Jack proposed!”

  Sarah squealed, “Oh my god, Rachel! That’s wonderful!” She took her friend’s hand into her own and bent to inspect the diamond solitaire set in white gold with three ruby baguettes arranged like flower petals jutting out from each side. “Wow, it’s stunning!”

  “Mark your calendar now,” Rachel warned, “We’re getting married in Colorado in June!”

  Sarah was overwhelmed. Rachel had known Jack for less than three months. She couldn’t believe that they were close enough to already be talking marriage. I’ve known James for at least a month longer, Sarah considered, and I can’t imagine even saying the L word, let alone the M one. Despite her trepidation, she was happy for Rachel. Jack was a good man and such a step up from Mark. I guess they worked out those problems that we discussed on Black Friday, Sarah considered. I was so focused on James I forgot to follow up on what happened after our conversation.

  Sarah took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts of James out of her mind. “So, I’m the maid of honor, right?”

  Rachel threw her arms around Sarah. “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course you are! And I’m making you w
ear a pink dress with poufy sleeves,” she joked.

  Sarah laughed, trying to imagine Rachel choosing anything pink or frilly. Her pick was much more likely to be revealing and slinky, maybe in red or deep purple. “Wow, you only have six months. I guess we better get on the planning. So, in Colorado, huh?”

  “Yes, in the Springs,” Rachel replied, which was where her family was from. “I want to get married in Garden of the Gods.”

  Two trips home in the coming year, Sarah realized. She wouldn’t even have a chance to get homesick between the two trips! The thought of seeing her mountains instantly made her smile. She grasped Rachel’s hand and squeezed. “What an incredible Christmas this has been!”

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  New Years

  James had issued Sarah a rain check for the dinner at his house that never came to fruition. On New Year’s Eve she decided to cash it in. He’d just returned from Ohio and she was missing him fiercely. Fiercely is not too strong a word, she realized, thinking about the nights she’d laid in her empty bed feeling such a deep longing, it was like a vacuum in her soul. And it wasn’t Pawel she was thinking about on those lonely nights, although she missed him for different reasons, her longing had a trigger and it was James. There were times she’d toss herself from one side of the bed to the other, abruptly awakened by a flash in her memory, him hovering over her, the way his eyelashes looked when his eyes were closed, or the cleft of his spine delineated between the hemispheres of his muscular back.

  On her drive to his house in Laurel, she had plenty of time to think. In traffic, it was a 40 minute trek. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen him for two weeks. She had spoken to him on the phone on Christmas and that conversation still echoed in her mind, particularly the part where she told him that Rachel had gotten engaged. “Wow,” he’d remarked and then fell silent. Sarah wondered if he thought she was telling him to gauge his reaction. She really had had no other motive than to share her best friend’s good news. Sensing his discomfort with the topic, she changed the subject quickly.

  “How’s your newborn niece? Did you hold her?” she questioned.

  James laughed, the tension suddenly diffused, “Oh, she’s really cute. Still doesn’t do much yet at this age. I held her for a minute and my sister took a picture.”

  “Oh, I want to see!” Sarah cooed, trying to imagine his strong hands cradling a tiny baby.

  Her GPS said she was getting close. She was still trying to formulate an image of him holding an infant. As much as they’d talked about themselves by this point, she had still not shared very much with him about her children. She wondered if he thought of her as a mother. He didn’t seem the type to be enticed by the whole MILF fantasy. After all, he rarely mentioned her children. She wondered if that was part of how he had compartmentalized her: she was just Sarah the Sex Goddess and perhaps Dr. Lynde, the sociologist. But the other huge part of her identity was motherhood. She wondered how he reconciled it with her other roles.

  The night was cold and drizzly, with temperatures right on the verge of freezing, but not quite cold enough to push the rain over the edge to solid precipitation. The car had finally gotten all toasty warm just in time for her to venture out into the brutal elements. She slowed down, reading the house numbers and searching for the right driveway, very nearly missing her turn. Her night vision was failing her, the black pavement was so shiny and reflecting.

  Squinting, she started to wish she’d worn her glasses. Maybe I need a stronger prescription. Fuck I’m getting old! she groaned. She was momentarily blasted with feelings of self-consciousness. There was always this latent anxiety lurking where she wondered what in the world a man like James saw in her. She sighed and shrugged it off.

  She felt sort of silly gathering up her overnight bag. He never brings anything to my house, she considered, but then again he almost always leaves first thing in the morning. Those moments of anxiety were fleeting, replaced by a tingly feeling when she imagined waking next to him late in the morning, perhaps sharing a light breakfast, and then leisurely making love again before she headed home. I’ve only ever gotten about eight hours with him at a time, she realized. Maybe ten.

  It was 6 PM and she wasn’t due back the next day until evening, maybe later if Mom doesn’t mind the kids staying over longer. The prospect of having a whole weekend with him was having a powerful effect on her body as she struggled to focus on getting the car door shut and walking up to his front door. Would he think I’m overstaying my welcome if I didn’t leave right away tomorrow? she wondered.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, she chastised herself. The damp, cool night air was saturated with promise. The thick layer of clouds concealed the moon and stars but she wished on an invisible star anyway just as she heard him unlock the door. It was sheer moments before she was caught up in his arms, him bending down slightly, his breath on her neck and whispering, “I missed you...”

  This. This is what I needed, she thought as he tenderly stroked her cheek and brushed his lips against hers, his other hand still encircling her waist. After several seconds he pulled back and she had another look at him, her eyes tracing a line from his face, across his broad shoulders and down his front. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. He was also barefoot. I guess he feels comfortable not dressing up for me at this point, she mused.

  He led her into the kitchen where there was an assortment of pots and pans all steaming and sizzling away. “What are we having?” she queried as he peeked into the oven.

  “Stir fry,” he replied. “And there’s a pie in the oven.”

  Wow, she thought, James McAllister makes pie? Homemade pie? Surely not.

  “Everything smells delicious!” Sarah reassured him as she took in her surroundings. She felt like she was studying a wild animal’s natural habitat. The kitchen was tidy, almost clinically so; she noted the cutting board already soaking in the sink. She peered through the opening to the living room and the first thing she saw were books, zillions of books. She transitioned through the archway and surveyed the living room: a recliner, a loveseat covered with an antique looking afghan, and books. The idyllic scene was warmed by the amber glow of a lamp on the end table. There were books on shelves and books on the coffee table. There were books stacked in the corner and beside the loveseat and floor lamp. Her eyes grew wide at the sheer numbers of volumes.

  James had followed her and was grinning at her reaction, “I like to read,” he explained in his classic, understated way.

  “I see that,” Sarah replied. I clearly underestimated his nerdy side, she realized as her eyes began scanning titles. Lots of science fiction. Some fantasy. Tons of nonfiction: political books, history, a huge collection of Civil War and WWII, biographies, scientific type stuff.

  She turned around to see him still smiling. He looks like such a jock, she thought, admiring the outline of his chest muscles against the cotton fabric of the t-shirt. So much more than meets the eye. “All these books,” she confessed, laughing, “these are making me wet. Did you set this up just to seduce nerdy chicks?”

  James laughed and shook his head. “I genuinely like to read. I don’t watch TV except sports and movies. I really prefer reading.”

  Who knew that James McAllister would turn out to be a pie-baking intellectual? The man is full of surprises, Sarah sighed. James headed back into the kitchen and Sarah heard the clattering of china as he withdrew plates from the cupboards. She looked over a few more titles and then peeked around the corner down the hallway. There were three closed doors. Two bedrooms and a bathroom, she guessed.

  “Hey, Sarah,” he called from the kitchen. “What do you want to drink?”

  She crossed back into the kitchen and eyed the wine glasses on the counter. “Ah, you know me too well,” she smiled. “Why even ask?” He uncorked the bottle and began to pour a generous glass of Riesling, her favorite.

  James’ stir fry was surprisingly good: spicy, but not too spicy. Sarah had to keep rem
inding herself to slow down and savor the meal because all she could think about was skipping ahead to the part where she was running her fingers over his chest muscles and her tongue up his shaft. But he was extraordinarily relaxed and conversant, almost as if he sensed her urgency and wanted to make her wait for him.

  Later he led her to his bedroom and they lay on their sides on his bed facing each other, continuing the conversation from the dining table. James was finishing up his tales of the holiday and his trip to Ohio. He took out his phone and showed her the picture of him holding his newborn niece. Sarah had never seen a sweeter picture. There is something intrinsically moving about seeing strength subdued, harnessed into a gentle tenderness, she observed.

  “Oh, you’ll make such a great daddy someday,” Sarah remarked, her eyes a little glassy after seeing the picture.

  James beamed, “I hope so.”

  His eyes were a little distant. Sarah had wanted to tear his clothes from his limbs the moment she saw him, but the tone had changed. She saw an opening. “So why is it you’ve never married and started a family?”

  James hesitated, looking away for a moment, and then back into Sarah’s expectant eyes.

  “I was married a long time ago.”

  Sarah internally gasped. How can I just be learning this? she wondered, calculating that she had known James for five months. She said nothing and hoped that James could read from her expression that more elaboration was required.

  “Well,” he began, “I went to Alabama for boot camp fresh out of high school and that’s where I met her. She followed me to Florida for EOD school.”

  Sarah’s eyebrows raised, “EOD?”

  “Explosive Ordnance Disposal,” James explained. “I was there for nine months, then I got orders for Iraq.” He paused, searching for the right words, wondering how simple of an explanation he could get away with. “I kind of freaked out, to tell you the truth. All I could think about was not coming home. And even if I did, not having someone to come home to.”