“We hit a hard patch,” she said. “I had a good job, an IT job with a startup, and it looked like we were going to be fine. I owe a lot of money, credit cards mostly, but the job paid really well. I thought we were over the worst of it.” She shrugged, and looked into the fire. “But the company went down and I had to clean out my desk and leave the same day I found out. I never got my final paycheck.”
Kevin rustled and moaned in his sleep and they both glanced over at the bed, but he settled back down into a curled mound under the comforter. Nick watched Cindy’s face soften as she looked at her son, and saw it harden again as she turned back to him.
Her eyes were blazing now, as if warning him not to say anything critical. “We left our apartment in the middle of the night. I owe about two months in back rent, and we would have been evicted. I took a chance that I could buy the plane tickets at the airport with my credit card, and the charges went through. I don’t have the money to pay for them, though. And I don’t have the money to pay for our room at Sweenie’s.” He listened and tried to keep his face neutral, though she almost spit her words at him.
He let out his breath in a whoosh and searched his brain for something to say that wouldn’t sound challenging.
“Do you know what you want to do?” He had pitched his voice low and slow, but she still bristled. She crossed her arms and shook her head.
“I know there’s nothing for us here.” He tried to ignore the implied rejection in that statement, but it stung. “It’s damn cold and the godforsaken end of the earth. I have no idea why you even stay here.” Again, he pulled himself back from a retort. She was completely ignorant about life here, and she was exhausted and upset. Still, he wished she had better manners.
“I’ll take care of the bill at Sweenie’s.” He looked into her face for a glimmer of a positive reaction, some relief perhaps, but nothing surfaced. “You and Kevin obviously need a rest and someplace to stay, so why don’t we take it slow for a few days while we figure things out.”
This time he did see a flash of relief, but she just nodded curtly, offering no thanks.
He stood and turned towards the kitchen. “I’ll make some sandwiches.” He paused. “And I’d like to get to know you again. And get to know my grandson.”
His back was to her, but he heard her breath catch, perhaps, just perhaps, like she had stifled a sob.
***
After they ate, they’d talked a little more. He thought Cindy was holding back a lot of history, but she told him about her prior job, and he was surprised to discover that her skills were impressive. She’d trained as a programmer, and had advanced to a high-level manager of complex projects. But she’d been seduced by the high-tech world, as had so many before her, and she’d signed with a high-flying startup that flourished and then crashed. As she talked, cracks opened in her prickly exterior, and she seemed younger and more vulnerable. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know what to do. Merry was good at this type of thing. She would have been able to talk with Cindy, to give her comfort and get the whole story. The passing memory of Merry brought its customary cut of pain. But even he was perceptive enough to see embarrassment, confusion and fear flit across Cindy’s face as her recent history emerged in bits and pieces.
After half an hour, Kevin sat up in bed and called, “Mama!” in a strangled voice.
“It’s okay, honey, I’m here.” Cindy pushed herself out of the couch and moved to the bed. She hugged him close into her arms and rocked him back and forth. “We’re fine. We’re in Alaska, remember, on a big adventure.” When she wrapped her arms around Kevin, Nick could only see the ruff of Kevin’s ginger hair, so like his own.
***
After he left Cindy and Kevin at the cabin, Nick found himself driving more slowly than usual down the dirt road to the highway. Fat clouds skidded across the blue sky, casting occasional dark shadows in his path, changing the mood of the day, minute by minute. He was rehearsing his words, deciding how to spring all this on Cass. Cass knew he’d left a family behind, but neither of them had envisioned that Cindy and a grandson would surface, right here in Alaska, after all this time.
He swore softly under his breath. Could his life get any more complicated? He and Cass still hadn’t figured out how they were going to play all this out. The fact that she was having his baby still shocked him. He saw Cass almost every day now, and he always asked her how she was feeling and if she needed anything, but that was about the extent of it. They hadn’t talked about what came next for them. Frankly, Nick didn’t want to face it yet. She wasn’t showing, and they hadn’t told anyone. So much between them was unspoken. They hadn’t agreed to keep quiet about the baby, but they both understood that was what they were going to do, at least for now. That wouldn’t be possible much longer, though. The whole situation was a ticking time bomb.
Every time he saw Cass, every time he greeted her and pulled her into a hug, was a new betrayal. As he held Cass, her yearning for him, for a future with him, was almost palpable. But as he held her, feeling her body pressing against him, feeling her unspoken questions, his mind invariably manifested Merry, holding Merry, her slight body close and warm, her head tucked under his chin, the sweet and salty fragrance of her, the gentle flick of her soft hair tickling his neck.
His hands were clutching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles drained white. He opened and closed his hands and took some deep breaths. As much as he cared about Cassandra, as much as he loved Cassandra, he still couldn’t envision a life with her as his partner. She was lovely and wild and damaged and talented and he knew, he knew with absolute certainty, that she thought she loved him, that she had this wild fantasy about them being together and being happy.
He shook his head and scowled at the maze of potholes and ruts in the road in front of him, slowing down even more. He just couldn’t see it, no matter how hard he tried. That night together had been such a massive and tragic mistake, and the sinkhole it had made in his life kept getting bigger and bigger.
Chapter 11
When Cass peered out into the thin gray daylight this morning, fat white flakes were drifting aimlessly in front of her window. She shrugged. No doubt it was an unseasonable snowfall, but nobody who lived here would bat an eye about it. Snow could show up at any time of year. It wouldn’t last long.
It took her the good part of an hour to load up the back of the jeep with the new finished pieces. She layered them carefully in blue quilted moving blankets, stopping occasionally to hold a vase up at eye level, admiring its blushing saffron glaze, and to run her hand across the smooth, shiny surface of the new asymmetrical platters. She smiled to herself, pleased and satisfied. It was definitely her best work. These days she couldn’t wait to sit down at the wheel, to experiment with different techniques, to work to move her new designs from her imagination into life in the clay. When it came to clay, she knew her own worth. Some of these pieces were brilliant.
She suspected that Moira would be satisfied with the same work, year after year, because it sold well, and every year brought a new crop of eager tourists, wallets in hand, looking for Alaskan memorabilia. But Cass needed to stretch into these new forms, casting away without as much as a second glance the many pieces that came from the kiln broken, malformed or just plain ugly. That was the way of clay. After these many years she knew that she couldn’t get attached to anything until it emerged from the glaze kiln, its final form revealed. It was always thrilling to open and unload the kiln after it had roared with flame and scorching heat for hours and then slowly cooled.
She leaned against the jeep, wide-eyed, when out of nowhere a new thought bloomed. Katy wanted some of her work for display and sale at The Twins, and Cass’ work would show well there, but Cass had been reluctant to offend Moira, who had always carried her pieces exclusively in the gallery. But what if Moira continued to carry Cass’ more commercial and salable work, and Katy took some of the new, more sculptural pieces? Then the two wouldn’t really be in compet
ition. In fact, the two different displays might complement each other well.
Cass slumped against the jeep door as the next logical thought emerged. She would have to increase her production, make even more work. She could do it, she could happily work at the wheel day and night, as hours passed, her mind serene and focused on the spinning clay, the strong yet subtle movements of her hands shaping and guiding the forms, and then the delicate work of dipping, spraying and painting with the glazes and underglazes after the bisque fire, before the final firing.
But how could that work with a new baby?
She bit her lip and closed her eyes. She put her hands on her stomach, barely rounded, and tipped her face upwards to the gentle cold kiss of the falling snow. She didn’t move until the melting flakes seeped through her canvas shoes and chilled her feet. She creaked open the driver side door and slid inside. Everything was changing, as if her own life were running away from her, as if a dark door had opened, beckoning for her to pass through.
***
A half hour later, Cassandra drifted around the gallery floor, stopping to run her fingers over displays of bright pink salmon refrigerator magnets and dishcloths proudly announcing that they were from Homer, ALASKA! She bit her lower lip and moved a hand to her stomach. Though she wasn’t showing yet, not as far as she could see, her body had definitely declared that it was not hers alone. Waves of nausea crested and fell at the most inconvenient times, like now as she waited for Moira to make an appearance so that they could talk about pricing the box of new pieces she’d just delivered. What she really wanted was to lie down somewhere, preferably in a dark, quiet place, for a few minutes.
Where was Moira? She should have been there fifteen minutes ago. Cassandra frowned. Moira wasn’t usually late.
She turned as she heard the front door bell, and then puckered her lips in disappointment. Brian eased his way through the entry, his head drooped forward, his back curling into a slouch. He glanced at her, then flicked his eyes away quickly as he pushed the door closed behind him.
“Hello, Cassandra. Come to brighten up my day?” His voice was raspy and uneven, as though he’d had to search for the words before speaking them. His eyes flitted from her face to the wall to the window. As his glance passed over her, she found it hard to suppress a shudder. His body spoke of awkwardness and submission, yet his eyes…though they only looked at her for an instant, she felt the suggestion of something else entirely.
“Just waiting for Moira. She’s late.” She turned away and studied the display of enameled spoons in front of her. Her voice was crisp and sharp and she willed herself to be nicer. Brian was important to Moira.
“Oh, she’ll be here, just havin’ her hair done or somethin’.” She heard him move up close behind her. “You girls, you know how you like to take your time getting pretty.” He mumbled his words, soft and low. She could smell him, sweat and cigarette smoke and some heavy, cheap cologne that made her stomach rise.
She went rigid. She took a step away from him and bit her lip. It was only Brian.
“Okay, maybe I’ll wait in the office.”
She turned and he was right there, less than a foot away, staring into her eyes. For the briefest of moments, it wasn’t Brian but someone else whose eyes bored into hers with a darkly focused ferocity before flicking away.
Quickly, his mouth curved into a lopsided, apologetic grin. He shuffled slightly to one side of the narrow aisle to let her pass, but as she moved by, he shifted his body back towards her and his arm pressed against her chest. Startled, she pushed him away, her breath catching in her throat.
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, grinning at the floor.
She hissed and tried to step away, knocking her hip into a table, sending a mass of key chains jangling to the floor. Brian grabbed her elbow and snickered, pulling her towards him.
“Whoa, Cassandra, don’t fall now.”
The front door bell clanged. Moira stood absolutely still in the doorway, her hand on the knob, staring at them.
Brian let go of Cass’ elbow and quickly stepped away, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. “Best be going. Lots to take care of today.” He shambled out the door, planting a quick kiss on Moira’s cheek on the way out. “See you later.” Moira hadn’t moved.
Cassandra gasped for air. She shook her head. “Moira, I...”
Moira slammed the door behind her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She strode to the register counter and dropped her bag onto the crowded surface, knocking pens and loose receipts to the floor. Moira’s contorted face flashed red, and her hoop earrings rose and fell with the rhythm of the words she spat in Cassandra’s direction.
What was there to say? “Brian...”
Moira’s face was alive with spite. “You just can’t stay away from men, can you, Cassandra? Other women’s men. First Nick, taking him right from under Merry’s nose, but that isn’t enough, I guess. Now you want Brian too, eh?”
“No...no...” Surely Moira couldn’t believe that she was interested in Brian. The whole idea was preposterous. Everyone knew what Brian was like. Well, maybe everyone except Moira. She stood with her palms opened towards Moira. “I wasn’t...”
“Oh, shut up.” Moira snorted and grabbed her bag, heading for the office. “I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t even want to see you right now. Just leave.” Cassandra could hear the onset of tears in Moira’s departing voice. She didn’t know what to do. She was horrified that Moira thought she’d made a pass at Brian, and aghast too at the words that Moira had hurled at her. Is that what Moira, is that what everyone, thought? That she had swooped in and stolen Nick away from Merry?
The world crumpled around her. She’d lost Merry, and now Moira. She took a ragged breath. Well, she had Nick. Nick was on her side. She headed through the door, welcoming the harsh bite of the wind from the north as it cooled her face. As long as she still had Nick, somehow it would be all right.
***
He slouches alone near the corner of the post office, staring at the wall with the wanted posters, hearing the bitch behind the counter rustle the papers on her desk. She is yakking on the phone, sounding like she’s telling someone how to pick up a package or something, and her nasty voice grates on him. Ugly bitch. He has his hand down his pants, she can’t see him pulling at himself, and it feels good to be doing it so close to her. He grins at the grisly, bearded face frowning on the wanted poster, and smacks his lips in a kiss. You’d like to be here, wouldn’t you, so close to this bitch. He pushes in closer to the wall, moving his hand slowly but pressing hard, imagining what it will be like when Cassandra finds his latest little present. He hates the way rubbers feel, but that was the best way to get the message across, and it was easy to steal a box, even though the store keeps them behind the desk. Luckily, she didn’t lock her car, but no one here does, stupid, trusting fools. She’ll find it and have to pick it up, wrapping her hand around it, maybe it will even leak onto her. She’ll be scared, he knew she will be. That’s good. He growls low…he’s getting close now, and he rubs faster and harder, but it’s all right, the bitch behind the counter is still talking. He closes his eyes and hisses as he comes, hard and wet, huddling for a moment, wanting it to be inside her, not in this crappy waiting room. The outside door creaks open, some guy with a bunch of packages, and he pulls his hand out, fast, wiping it on his pants, before sliding out the open door. Yes, she’ll be scared.
***
Her emotions ricocheted around the bouncing jeep as she headed home. Moira’s words had deeply wounded her, and though she resented Moira’s accusation, mostly she was raging-white-hot furious with Brian. She hurled curses at the road ahead. He was an ass, pure and simple, and somehow he had skated away unscathed, while she was being branded as a tramp.
She slammed the heel of her hand against the steering wheel as her front right wheel took a dive into another pothole. And now the town must be gossiping about her and Nick. Cass swore again, this time shouting out c
urses at the road ahead. Why couldn’t people just mind their own business?
Gossip happened in small towns, and she understood that, but that fact didn’t stop it from hurting her. She and Nick hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy yet, but anyone could see that Nick and Cass were spending a lot of time together, while Merry was on her own. She didn’t know what Merry had said to anyone, how she had explained why she and Nick weren’t together. She pressed her lips into a grim straight line. Dammit, though, in spite of everything, she knew Merry, and Merry wouldn’t have been unkind. Merry wouldn’t have bad-mouthed her. It just wasn’t her way.
She used the back of her hand to brush away the tears that were streaking down her face. She missed Merry, her quiet presence, her low-key humor, the way she could make things better just by listening. She needed Merry now, but Merry was gone.
She made the final turn to the cabin and the jeep skidded to the left, throwing her hard against the door. She slowed down, realizing that the snow had formed a thin slippery layer over the stiff mud. Ahead, the cabin’s steps were coated in white, but the wet edges of the boards were already surrounding the thin mounds of snow in tidy brown frames. The snow would probably melt away within the hour, except maybe where it was tucked into the protecting recesses of the spruce trees.
Cass frowned, leaning forward to peer through the windshield. Ahead, the clean white sheet of snow was marred by tire tracks, stopping near the front of the cabin. Someone had been here. She scanned from right to left. No one seemed to be around now. She slowly opened the jeep door and stepped out, moving carefully over to the tracks. It wasn’t just tire marks. She saw footprints in the rapidly disappearing snow cover, prints that didn’t move up to the porch boards. She followed the footprints around the cabin and saw that they led partway into the meadow and then back again.
She squatted next to a footprint to take a closer look at a half-melted imprint of a man’s boot with heavy treads.
A Late Hard Frost Page 10