Hasty Resolution

by Mullens, Sam Taylor

  “A little. We’re going out pretty far with inexperienced snowmobilers. I hope there are a lot of people who stay out on the trails today because I don’t want to be out by ourselves if something goes wrong.”

  I pull Jake in to me to kiss him on the lips.

  “I’m sure everything will be all right,” I tell him warmly with a smile.

  “With you, Liz, everything is just fine,” Jake says before kissing my forehead. “I hate covering up your blue eyes.” Jake lowers the helmet onto my head. “You can’t even tell it’s you under all your attire. At least you are wearing white while everyone else is dressed in black.”

  We pull out as a caravan, with Jake leading the way. Jennifer, Brooke, and I are sandwiched between Will while Doug stays as the caboose. We follow the road taking us to a trail leading away from the populated resort town. The trail goes over a main road and we are soon at the mouth of the backcountry.

  Jake is going slowly and Jennifer and Brooke are going even slower. I become bored and veer off the trail to make a figure eight to the side and then rejoin the caravan in my spot. Doug is doing the same, while Will does not break away from the caravan. I meander from the group several times until we come to an open clearing where we can play around freely on the snowmobiles.

  I drive my snowmobile around the perimeter of the meadow and then see there is a drop off to another clearing caked with fresh powder. I zip through the lower area, marking my path with my snowmobile tracks. I return to the group, ready to follow a groomed trail.

  Jake is once again taking it slow. To curb my impatience, I deviate slightly when there is a clearing in the trees and then quickly rejoin the caravan. The last few weeks, Jake and I have become very comfortable with the snowmobiles. We drive them to check the drop box, check the perimeter of the property with the new main gate Jake had installed, and simply mess around by going out on joy rides. We’ve been lucky we haven’t had problems with the machines so far.

  We travel another ten miles on the groomed trail when Jake decides to check out a clearing and everyone follows his lead. As I lightly accelerate my machine, Will races from behind and pulls his machine in front of mine to block my passage.

  Will lifts the visor on his helmet.

  “You stay with the group,” he tells me sternly.

  He points at me as he scowls before dropping down the visor on his helmet.

  What was that all about? Scolding me like a child. I am furious he would talk to me like that. Jake turns around to see what is keeping me at a standstill as Will speeds away. I’m glad the tinted visor on my helmet conceals my fury.

  I stay in the snow-covered meadow area, gliding across the snow. When I turn my machine around, I discover Will has been sucked into a tree. Doug is digging him out of the snow. A rueful laugh escapes my lips within the confines of my helmet at his plight.

  We caravan further on the groomed trail, taking us deeper in to the backcountry. We yield to people passing us on the right. The pine trees are white with snow and the deer stay away from the roar of the machines. We pass a moose that is staring at us as we make our way over a ridge. We stop and have lunch at an abandoned ranger’s station next to a frozen river.

  The waterfall over the ledge has frozen in vast cascading icicles, one layering over another in majestic wonder. The layers of ice crystals shine against the sunlight. Everything is bright all around us, not just because of the sun, but also because of the whiteness of the snow covering everything in sight.

  Doug and Jennifer, along with Will and Brooke, stay to eat their lunch on a fallen tree branch close to where we parked the snowmobiles.

  I leave my helmet on my snowmobile and hike through snow with Jake to the abandoned red shingle cabin. I toss the backpack in my hands, containing our lunch, to Jake so I can have better balance as I make my way through the snow. I follow Jake’s exact boot prints in the snow. As I step, the snow reaches my upper thighs. I feel like my legs are weighed down with blocks of cement as I walk through the deep snow. Jake grabs my mittened hand and pulls me to find harbor from the cold on the cabin’s porch.

  As I walk the wood planks of the porch, I notice the boarded door and the windows are painted shut. When I look in the window, I see paint peeling from the walls and the fireplace blocked just as the front door is.

  We sit on the porch to eat our sandwiches.

  I am wet with sweat inside my heavy coat. I unzip my coat and pull away my nylon coverings to allow the frigid air to cool my skin. Stuffing my hat and gloves into my pockets, I have a better grip on my sandwich. This is when Jake notices my red fingertips. I quickly go from being sweaty in my coat to shaking all over from the cold.

  “Liz, how did your fingers get so cold out here?” He pulls my fingers to his mouth to warm them with his breath. “Your toes are probably the same.”

  “I’ll activate heat packs and stuff them in my boots and mittens to make it through this afternoon,” I say before I bite down on my sandwich.

  Jake inches his way next to me and wraps his legs, encasing me as we sit on the porch. He takes his broad shoulders and puts his arms around me.

  “This is the last winter we’ll stay in Canada. You get too cold and I don’t want you to get hypothermia or frostbite. Next winter, we’ll stay in San Diego.”

  “Like snowbirds?” I ask.

  “What’s a snowbird?” Jake asks with a puzzled look on his face.

  “People who fly south for the winter to escape the cold,” I explain.

  “Then, yes. We’ll be snowbirds.”

  “Jake, are you making plans?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes, I guess I am.” Jake smiles. “I’m making plans. No more winters with you, Liz, in Canada. We can walk along the pier until the morning fog burns off in San Diego and your kids can hang out at the beach whenever they’d like.”

  “My kids? You’re okay with me getting my kids?” I now have a puzzled look on my face.

  “Yes, Liz. How can I be with you and not be with your kids? You’ve already been gone too long without them. I know you worry about them. You can enroll them in schools in San Diego.”

  “And we’ll all live happily ever after in your pool house?”

  “No, Heather’s youngest son is going off to college next year. That’s why we’ve been talking on the phone the past couple of months. She is going to swap me the main house for the pool house.”

  “Jake, you’ve been putting some thought into this?”

  “Yes, I have. The only thing I don’t know is if you know how to surf.”

  “That is something I have not tried.”

  I smile brightly and Jake grins as if he is looking at his future for the first time.

  The crunch of snow startles us both. It is Doug and Will, standing ten feet away. Doug hollers, cutting off our conversation prematurely, to tell us we need to get going so he can see the hot pockets Jake pointed out earlier on the trail map.

  I open the backpack to retrieve the shimmering gold-wrapped heat packets. I loosen the string on my snow boots so I can inch an activated heat packet near my toes. I break two more. Jake helps place them between my gloves and mittens. Jake helps me get all zipped, tied, and snapped up before remounting the machine so we can keep going for the rest of the afternoon.

  We return to the groomed trail in our caravan. I grow bored, swerve off to my left, and then swerve back to the right. I always return to my spot in the caravan. I look over my shoulder to find Doug is doing the same as I am. We come to a clearing where we can play, but not before Will gives me another strong warning. Jake looks over his shoulder to notice Will has stopped me from passing.

  I gingerly accelerate my machine past Will as he drives away. I don’t hot dog around the meadow the way I’d like to. I carefully stay behind Jennifer and Brooke, who are intentionally crawling their machines through the snow. I am going slowly to avoid receiving Will’s reprimand.

  Will becomes sucked into another tree in the meadow. When I d
rive over, I find he is soaked with sweat from trying to dig himself out. Why is he so worried about what I do when he is the one constantly getting stuck? Snowmobiling is miserable if all you do is get yourself stuck in the snow.

  When we reconvene a caravan, I follow directly behind Jake, who continues to lead the way. I want to stay as far away from Will as possible. We sled past an abandoned ski hill with only four trails. There are remnants of a rusted chairlift and a small shack at the top of the hill.

  We continue on the groomed trail where pines line our path. Pines are bending at the tips and sending small clumps of snow to the ground, dotting the surface of the white snow with softballs. Other limbs snap to the ground from the weight of the heavy snow and ice.

  We arrive at the warm springs to find other snowmobilers have taken off all their gear, laying it on top of their machines as they soak in the hot pockets of water.

  Jake and I kill our engines when everyone pulls adjacent to us in a horizontal line. Jake takes off his helmet and I do the same.

  “Do you want to do that?” Jake asks.

  I look around. “Are you asking me?” I point to myself.

  Jake nods his head. “Yeah, do you want to get into the warm spring?”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” My teeth chatter from being extremely chilled.

  “Yes, I’m teasing you, Liz,” Jake smiles. “You would instantly freeze the moment you got out of the water.”

  Tiny puffs of my breath show in the frigid air. “Good. You had me for a second.”

  Light skims the snow around the area as steam rises from the warm springs. I get off my machine and walk around to take a break from the jarring of the snowmobile. Jake follows as I walk the edge of the snow slowly melting from the warm water at my feet. Doug, Jennifer, Will, and Brooke follow the short trails around the warm springs to take in the wonder of our surroundings.

  I take hold of Jake’s arm and pull his ear to my mouth so only he can hear what I say. “I want to push Will into the water.”

  Jake snorts out a laugh. “I do too. What is up with him cutting you off?”

  “I have no idea. Am I a menace in the snow?”

  “No, I totally trust you. You know what you are doing. You’re not the one wasting our time getting your machine stuck.”

  “Oh, well, he’ll be gone before dinner,” I say, looking at the warm springs.

  Jake cringes. “I forgot to tell you. Doug wanted to eat dinner at The Grill tonight and then sleep over.”

  I look over at Will and Brooke. “That means all four will be staying at the cabin with us tonight?”

  Jakes scrunches his face. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Are they okay with the floor in front of the fire?” I ask.

  “They’d better be, because I’m not that generous of a host to give up our bed in the loft. Plus, you’re too noisy. I can’t have you echoing through the cabin from the couch all night long. I have to keep you contained in the bedroom loft,” Jake says with a smirk.

  I pat Jake on his backside and he leans down to give me a kiss. Steam rises in the cold air from the moistness of our kiss.

  We take most of the day playing around as we make our way to the frozen waterfall and to the warm water springs. We loyally stay on the groomed trails to return before the sun escapes us. Jennifer and Brooke are more confident with their machines, so we ride with greater speed. On the groomed trails, there is no powder for Will to get stuck in.

  We return to the rental shop to return the snowmobiles as dark closes in on us like an endless canopy of absolute blackness. There is one dim light on in the shop as a beacon to give us a sense of direction. Will races to the light. He hits a protruding rock in his path and tips the machine on its side. Will lies on the snow and moans in agony. His snowmobile tacks are spinning in the air. Jake runs over to kill the engine. Doug hops off his machine to examine Will. He finds nothing wrong with him and yet the man still lies in the snow, whimpering endlessly.

  Jake takes Will’s machine and drives it to the rental shop to check it in for the night. Jennifer, Brooke, and Doug check theirs in too. I offer to return Will’s helmet for him before I walk with Jennifer and Brooke to the heated shack to return their gear. Will remains on the ground, holding onto his shoulder.

  When Jake jogs back, we drive our snowmobiles onto the silver trailer hitched to Jake’s truck in the parking lot. There are very few lights in the parking lot. I ask Jake to wait for me while I take off some of my layers at the truck before we eat. He tells Doug to go ahead, save us a table at The Grill.

  I leave my snow bibs and thermals in the truck and pull a sweatshirt over my head. My hair is damp with sweat from my hat, so I pull it into a sloppy ponytail. Jake has a flashlight in the truck to illuminate our way to the grill in the darkness.

  The Grill is a small cabin all aglow with a roaring fireplace in the entryway. The menu, written on a large chalkboard, displays three choices: chicken, steak, and salmon. All the tables and chairs are made of pine. The place is packed with out-of-towners. Doug is holding a table in the back for us. As we zigzag our way through the dining room full of people, I hear my full name, Elizabeth Parker.

  My heart springs to the top of my throat. Jake heard it, too. I push Jake gently forward to meet Doug as I turn on my heel to see who is calling my name. No one calls me by my full name, Elizabeth Parker, at least no one I know well, especially in Canada.

  I turn to find a woman walking toward me with open arms.

  “We missed you at the conference this past fall,” the woman says.

  It takes me a moment to recognize her. My memory returns to me once I peer around her side to see a man also walking toward me. It is one of Mike’s clients and she is his wife. Once a year, I travel with my husband to a conference in California. He hates it and brings me out of obligation because they have it at a family friendly location and everyone brings their wives.

  “We saw Mike,” the man says.

  “But we didn’t see you,” the woman adds.

  “I just signed on for another year with Mike’s company so I won’t talk to him again for a while.”

  “Did he mention where I was or anything about our kids?” I ask.

  “Not a word, even when I asked a dozen times,” the woman says.

  “Well, I guess you could say we’re separated. It’s kind of ugly, so I would appreciate if you wouldn’t mention me being here with a bunch of old college buddies to Mike the next time you see or speak with him.”

  I lied about whom I was with, but made sure I emphasized not saying anything to Mike. I don’t want him looking for me or asking questions. Mike retrieving me himself is the last thing I want right now.

  “Nothing to worry about, like I said, I have no connection with Mike until the next conference in California,” the man says.

  “Maybe we’ll see you then,” the woman says, waving goodbye as they walk out the main entrance of The Grill.

  Did she not hear what I said? I am not with Mike anymore and yet she’s hopeful to see me at the next conference. I’m not too concerned they will remember our brief encounter, let alone make any mention of my whereabouts to Mike, since what I just said seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.

  I slide into the empty seat next to Jake.

  “Someone you know?” Will asks as I situate the linen napkin in my lap.

  “Just an old acquaintance,” I say dismissively.

  “Didn’t you want to introduce us?” Will asks.

  I furrow my brows. “Why would I? They live in Florida. I’m sure they’re just here snowmobiling for the day. They’ll probably be catching a flight home in the morning.”

  “I just like to take every advantage of widening my networks. What does that man do?”

  “He’s the president of a bank,” I say with piercing eyes.

  “That would have been perfect. I’m an accountant. You should have introduced me.”

  “Sorry, do you want me to run after him and drag him back i
n here? You might be more interested in his wife. She is the director of human resources for a top 500 company,” I say sarcastically.

  “Oh, yes! I would be interested. I need to be linked in as much as I can. I need to be personally in charge of promoting myself. Can you go get them to come back?” Will asks.

  I slowly shake my head.

  Jake interjects to rescue me, “I ordered salmon for you, Liz. I hope that was all right.”

  “Perfect,” I say with a smile and rub his knee under the table.

  “So, Liz.”

  I don’t respond as Will tries to recapture my attention.

  “Will, it’s been a long day. Leave Liz alone,” Doug says affirmatively to Will.

  When our food arrives, I consume it quickly. Jake does the same. Will barely lifts his fork as he tells all about himself.

  “I have my CPA, but that’s not enough for me. I am going back to school to get a master’s in business because I always wanted to be one of those people with multiple acronyms after their name on the office door.”

  The arrogance of this man nauseates me. He doesn’t allow anyone to speak with his wife or ask her about her criminal law practice. He doesn’t give Jennifer, his sister, a chance to talk to anyone at the table either.

  The waitress offers us a slice of pie for dessert and we politely decline. Jake hands over a hundred-dollar bill to Doug.

  “We’ll meet you at the cabin. I’ll leave the gate open, but make sure it closes behind when you pull through,” Jake says as we leave The Grill.

  I hang onto Jake’s arm as we walk back to the truck.

  “Who were those people?” Jake asks with alarm itching in his throat.

  “The man is a client of my husband’s. I hang out with his wife at the pool when we attend an annual conference together in California. She offers me a job when we get together. Like I said to Will at dinner, they live in Florida. I told them I was separated from Mike and it is getting ugly, so I asked them not to mention me to anyone.”

  Jake helps me into the truck.

  As we drive in the dark, Jake turns to me, “Liz, I don’t want you to lie for me.”