ALSO BY CONSTANCE WALKER:
WHEN THE HEART REMEMBERS
ONE PERFECT SPRINGTIME
LOST ROSES OF GANYMEDE
THE SHIMMERING STONES OF GLENDOWER HALL
CONSTANCE WALKER
A Winter’s Eve Book
First published by Avalon Books in 1988
This edition published in 2013 by Winter’s Eve Books
Copyright © 2012 by Constance Walker
All rights reserved. This Book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form (beyond copying permitted by Sections 107 and 108 of the United States Copyright Law, and except limited excerpts by reviewer for the public press), without written permission from Constance Walker. For information, please contact Winter’s Eve Books via email at [email protected].
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental. We assume no liability for errors, inaccuracies, omissions or any inconsistency therein.
Published by Winter’s Eve Books
www.WintersEveBooks.com
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012951101
ISBN 978-0-9884307-0-9 Digital Edition
0-9884307-0-3
Printed in the United States of America
Produced by Pedernales Publishing, LLC.
www.pedernalespublishing.com
Cover Design by Sherry Wachter
For Ben...always
Chapter One
The students weren’t the only ones who needed a vacation. After four solid months of work, the teachers at Southern High were feeling the pressure of teaching pupils who would sometimes have preferred to be outside in the cold winter air. More and more Katie Jarvis had had to abandon her class and go out to intimidate students who had decided that lunch hour or study hall had come early and continued late. She would be standing in her classroom, teaching the difference between poetry and prose, look out the window and see the kids huddled together on the football field. She’d leave her class, walk out coatless in the cold weather, herd the errant students back into their classroom and hope she hadn’t caught the flu.
This Wednesday, in the week before winter break, after the last bell of the day, Katie sat down at her desk with packets of travel folders spread out among the English lit books and stacks of students’ essays. She hunched over the desk, rested her chin on her hands and stared at the four-color brochures praising the snow and slopes of Pennsylvania, and took a deep breath. Three more days, she said to herself. Three more days and I’ll be there. She closed her eyes, lost in the reverie of a week of skiing, a week with her favorite books and poems and immersing herself in the haunting poems of Coleridge and Frost without the school bell of her mind reminding her to prepare lesson plans or grade papers.
It was going to be wonderful even though she was going alone. Jason had declared early in their relationship that snow and mountain slopes weren’t for him. “Just never will happen, Katie. Trust me, it never will.” Oh, Jason! If only he would try skiing just once. Just once even going down the beginning slopes or on a trail across a snow-covered field and she knew he would love it. But Jason was insistent—“no skiing, no snow, no cold weather. I have enough here,” he would say whenever she brought up the subject. “No, Katie, you go by yourself. It’s your vacation. I might as well get used to it. I can’t expect you to stop skiing when we get married. You enjoy it too much. I’ll just stay here and do my own thing.” He’d pick up her hand, stroke it, and smile, and Katie would know that that was the end of the conversation. So be it!
“Are you dreaming of skis, straps, boots, and all the other paraphernalia?” Irene, Katie’s best friend and Southern High’s algebra teacher, said as she came through the door.
Katie put the brochures into her briefcase. “I wish you’d come with me.”
“No way, Girlfriend. You know me. I’m heading for warmer climates this time around. That’s the only thing your Jason and I have in common. The hotter the sun, the better.” She pointed to the wall clock. “Come on, let’s go.”
They were almost the last ones to leave the school and as they walked through the deserted halls Katie mused silently about her own years as a student.
“They’ve changed,” she said.
“Who?” Irene pushed the door open.
“The kids. They’re so involved with the internet and computer games and blogs—I wonder if they have as much fun as we used to when we were their age.”
“I think they do. I hope they do.” Irene looked at her friend. “Haven’t you changed too? More things to think about. More things to worry about. It’s called getting older.”
“I guess so.” Katie smiled. “I think I really need that break!” She got into her car and lowered the window. “Jason and I are going out to dinner this evening. Want to come with us?”
Irene shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got a stack of papers that have to be graded.” She looked back at the grey stone school building. “Sometimes I do wish we were still students without a care in the world. Without having to make any other decisions than what to wear to school or…”
“Or who you were going to go out with on Saturday night.”
“Yeah, that, too, although I never had any guys standing in line to ask me.”
“Oh, no? I remember it differently.” Katie waved, rolled up the window, slowly backed her car out of its parking space and eased carefully onto the road. She glanced into the rearview mirror to make sure no car was coming, saw her reflection, frowned and pushed back the dark hair that had fallen across her brow. Another glance in the mirror told her that she was the only one on the highway, and after another critical glimpse at herself, rubbed her pale cheeks to redden them. At a stoplight she reached into her handbag, pulled out a tube of lip gloss, and applied it to her lips without taking her eyes off the road. Then another quick glance into the mirror just as the green light appeared. Not good, not bad but at least she wouldn’t look so washed out… so plain.
Not that Jason would mind, or even notice. No, he wasn’t the kind of guy who cared about externals. That’s why she was first attracted to him. Jason was solid, the type of man every mother wanted her daughter to bring home and marry, and even though her mother now lived in a senior retirement complex in Maryland, Katie was sure that her mother would absolutely approve of Jason. After all, what was there not to like about him? He was kind, generous, smart, good-looking and honest. Oh yes, Katie assured herself, she was a lucky woman. She had a good job, good friends, and she was engaged to Jason.
She pulled into the driveway of her apartment house, parked her car and looked once more at her reflection in the mirror. Yes, ma’am, she was a lucky person. She had everything she had ever dreamed of when she was younger. Absolutely everything.
She closed and locked her apartment door, put her handbag on the table by the wall, saw an opened bag of cookies on the kitchen counter, thought about eating one and quickly decided against it; Jason was coming soon and the “only one cookie,” she knew, would have easily turned into four or five and spoiled her dinner. No, best she started working on grading papers—it would be better for her students and her figure.
Jason arrived a few minutes later. It was a standing date; every Wednesday they would go to The Country Cottage for their usual soup and salad dinner, spend an hour and a half eating and talking, and then go back to her place. She would make coffee, they would trade stories about their students—Jason was a science teacher and part-time baseball coach—and somewhere around ten-thirty or eleven he would go home after giving her a very brief kiss. All was perfectly safe and all had b
een perfectly repeated for the last five months.
“Jason, do you sometimes want things to be different? To change?” She toyed with her salad, pushing the green olives around her plate, not looking at him.
“No, I never thought about that. I’m happy with the way things are, aren’t you?” Jason had a habit of always answering a question with a question.
She bit into an olive. “Yes, but sometimes I just get… oh, I don’t know. I just get a little…”
“What you need is that vacation, Katie. We’re all tired. We’re all on edge. You’ll see, when you get back you’ll be ready to go again.” He pointed his fork at her. “Take my word for it—we all need the time off.”
“I suppose so.” She watched as Jason paid the bill. “I wish you would let me pay my half.”
“Some other time.” He put his wallet into his pocket.
“You always say that.”
He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder and guided her out of the restaurant.
Katie studied Jason’s profile as they drove home in the dark. He was really rather handsome, she thought. Certainly the women teachers at school thought so, and she knew that the waitresses at The Country Cottage thought so too, judging by the way they always fussed over him. Even the girls in his class flirted with him. “An occupational hazard,” he had said when she teased him about it. “I read that almost all high-school students have a crush on some teacher at one time or another. I’m sure there’s someone right now in your class who dreams about taking you out.” He smiled and hugged her. “But you know as well as I do, Katie, that you just make sure you’re not alone with that student and the crush will fade in a few weeks.” He was right, of course, but still, it was nice to know that other people liked your choice of the man you were going to marry even though most of them were either too old or too young.
Besides, there was something in the set of Jason’s mouth—she could see it even now as light filtered into the car from passing streetlights—a certain something that projected a strong and reliable personality that told her that no matter what was going to happen, Jason would always be there for her. It was something she didn’t even have to think about, let alone discuss. She just knew that Jason would always be faithful, that there would be no other women in his life . . . ever. She would see him at the breakfast table every morning and he would always be home in the evenings with her, unlike her father, who had always been somewhere up or down the East Coast throughout the week, selling machinery to the shipyards, sometimes not making it home for even part of the weekend. No, that was another plus for Jason—he would always be there, and she would always be able to count on him. On birthdays, holidays, and summer vacations, Jason would always be with her.
“Why so quiet?” He turned up the heater.
“Oh, I don’t know . . . just thinking.”
“About us?” He smiled and she nodded.
“Yes, just thinking about how nice it is being with you.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “How nice it is with you now and how it will be later when . . .” She shrugged. “I just feel very comfortable with you, Jason,” she added, and he softly squeezed her hand.
Later, after their coffee and after Jason had left, while she was reading the last of the papers, she remembered Irene’s words: “Haven’t you changed too?” She put down the blue marking pencil and rubbed her nose.
“Have I?” she wondered. She leaned back against the cushions of the couch and looked around the living room and at her collection of music boxes on the end table. She leaned over and picked one up, listening to the faint, tinny sound of an almost unrecognizable tune. “Maybe I have,” she said, replacing it on the table. “Maybe I have.”
Chapter Two
She looked out her window at the mountains dotted with skiers in brightly colored jackets and hats and she smiled. This was what she had waited for, what she dreamt about for the past few months and especially what she needed. Jason was right; both the teachers and students were all a bit tired of the school routine; vacation time would work wonders for them and then they’d all be ready to return to the classroom.
She saw the deep piles of snow and heard, through the glass panes, children shouting and laughing as they took some of their first runs on the beginners’ slopes. Yes, this was what was missing in her life; this was her kind of weather, her kind of vacation. No matter what Jason and Irene said, nothing could compare to this vista. Forget about the sun and the water and the beach. Why would anyone prefer sand when you could have this?
She opened the window and took a deep breath of the cold air. Ever since she earned her first paycheck and took her first solo holiday this had been her one vice—a week’s vacation in the mountains in the winter. A week of quiet and solitude and clear thinking. Her friends had always teased her about her heading north when they were all travelling south. Think of the beach and the water and the sun, they would say and she would just shake her head. Forget about the sand, she told them—she would take the wind and the cold and the snow over their tanning lotions and hot suns. Not even Jason understood her fantasy of skiing but he always encouraged her to get away on her own. That was one of the first things they had agreed on early in their relationship—that each was to do what pleased them most and there would be no forcing the other one to do anything that didn’t appeal to them. “Fair is fair,” Jason said so she didn’t go sailing or camping (his choices) and he didn’t go skiing or to yoga (her choices). Sometimes, though, she wished that they were more in agreement about things. Maybe after they were married…
She unpacked his picture from her suitcase—the candid shot Irene took of the two of them in front of the school, he with his arm around her shoulders, and she laughing at something he had said. She blew on the glass and rubbed at a smudge and then looked closely at the photo. Dear Jason, good old Jason, she thought, and then set the frame on the bed table. If he chose not to come with her—well, at least he could be here in spirit.
She glanced again at the dazzling white scene outside and smiled at the bright sunshine that was reflected in the endless blanket of snow that covered the entire skiing area. It was real snow—not man-made—and more was predicted to fall through this evening and tomorrow.
“Yes! Go for it, Katie,” she said aloud as she put on her hood, slung her skis over her shoulder and headed for the slopes. It was finally time for fun. Finally time for her!
~
There weren’t more than ten people waiting in line for the lift to the medium slope and while she tightened her ski straps, she looked up to the top of the mountain, letting her eyes become accustomed to the blur of the stark whiteness. She adjusted her sunglasses and reached for the T-bar, thinking as it whisked her up the slopes that she had already forgotten about assignments and book reports and everything else about her life back home. Magic Mountain had already lived up to its name—the winter sport had pushed out all the other mundane daily thoughts in her mind.
She took her first run slowly, wanting to savor the experience, wanting to take in the full satisfaction of the downhill slide and by the time she had gone up and skied to the base for a third time, she was back to her old form.
“Nice run.” She heard the deep voice behind her and turned and saw a tall, slim man in a black nylon jacket. “Nice,” he said, motioning toward the downward trail.
“It sure is and I’ve been waiting for two months for this day.” She took hold of the T-bar again and saw that the young man was in back of her, next in line. “Fantastic day, isn’t it?” There, that was a nice, innocent statement. “You have to be careful,” she remembered Jason’s cautioning her, “sometimes you’re too friendly, Katie.” Jason was right—too many times her friendliness could have been misinterpreted.
The skier rubbed his gloved hands together. “Everything’s perfect,” he said as he reached for his own bar. “Just perfect.”
She made two more passes before noon, and then, exhausted, returned to her room. No sense overdoing
it the first day; she had six more glorious days of skiing ahead of her and if the weather held tonight, she’d take a few more runs this evening when they lit the slopes. This afternoon, though, she’d take a break and go to the souvenir shop down the road to buy Jason and Irene small gifts.
~
The little home-spun shop never seemed to change in all the years that she had been coming here. She loved the tinkling sound of the entrance door bell and the smell of cedar incense and perfumed soaps and potpourri that mingled and permeated the small store and at each turn of an aisle, she would pause and inspect the items displayed on the dark wooden shelves. Nothing seemed right for Jason until she discovered the plastic water globe with a small marble-sized baseball floating inside. She picked up the ornament and turned it upside down so that the ball bobbed and weaved within the liquid while silver colored confetti swirled around it. Yes! This was absolutely perfect for him. Now for Irene.
“Hello. So we meet again!” She recognized the voice and turned and saw the skier she had met on the slopes that morning. “I see you’ve given up already, too.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, not completely but I decided to take it easy since this is my first day back.”
“Smart! Best not to push it.” He grinned and she noticed that the little lines etched around his dark brown eyes were extensions of his smile—a smile that seemed open and innocent and maybe, just maybe, a bit mischievous. He pointed to the baseball globe in her hand. “For a son or a nephew?”
“Neither. For… for a friend.”
“Good choice.” He reached for a small, decorated music box. “What do you think of this?”
“Good choice.” She laughed. “But then I love any music box.” She flipped the switch and smiled as the small lace butterfly atop the box flapped its delicate wings in time to the music. “It’s lovely,” she said.
He frowned. “Would a young girl like it?”
Warm Winter Love Page 1