Katie nodded. “Uh-huh. Really. All the snow you could ask for and all the skiing under nearly perfect conditions.” She tried to keep the conversation light, not wanting to reveal anything. Maybe by the time she was ready to talk about it, all the hurt would have disappeared.
Irene cocked her head to one side. “Is that all? You’ve gone away before and have never come back quite like this.” She stared at Katie. “No, there’s something about you, something different. Something happened there, didn’t it? I can tell. There’s something that I can’t quite figure out. Something that’s happy and yet sad with you. If I didn’t know you better, Katie, I would say you met someone.” She narrowed her eyes. “You did, didn’t you? I knew it. I just knew it! It’s in your eyes.”
Katie took a deep breath. “I always said you were my best friend. You’re right. I did meet someone at the Crest, but it’s not like you think.” Not like I want to think, either, she thought, and then she remembered Sam’s smile and slightly crooked tooth, and for a moment she could almost believe that she was back at the Crest, waiting for him to ski down the mountain with her.
“Want to talk about him?”
“Maybe I should, just to figure out some things. To put it all in perspective.” She toyed with her tablespoon. Where should she begin? “Sam—that’s his name—was at the Crest too, and I met him on the slopes.” She leaned across the table, intending to keep her voice low, so that no one could overhear.
“Hello,” a hearty voice said. “You two look like you’re conspiring against the principal.” Katie and Irene looked up as Jason put a tray of food on the table and sat down. “Whew! These kids are always difficult the first day back.” He smiled at the two women. “I figure this is a wasted day.”
“Yeah,” Irene agreed. “Katie and I were just comparing notes about classes. I think we all hate getting back to our routines.”
Jason unwrapped his food. “Yes, but sometimes it’s not too bad. At least you know what you’re going to be doing for the next few weeks.”
Jason was right, Katie thought. Routine is not really too bad if you like what you’re doing and whom you’re doing it with. She watched as he ate his cheese sandwich. She had always liked routine too. It was nice and secure. But now—now she felt a strange stirring deep within her. She felt as though she were being confined.
She shook her head. That was silly. No one was telling her what to do. This was the life she had chosen. This was the life she was used to and had been happy with for these past years. This was what she enjoyed. She knew that from every Monday to Friday she would have lunch in this cafeteria with Irene and Jason, and she could even count on the fact that Jason would have a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk, and that there would be spaghetti on Tuesdays, and that the lunch menus would alternate every week except on special holidays. No, there really wasn’t anything wrong with routine. It was what made her feel safe.
Then why did she feel that she wanted to run away? She had never felt this way before. She looked through the window and saw the sunshine and the trees, which were beginning to leaf. She knew that she should be happy—spring had finally arrived. But there was this ache in her chest near her heart and it wouldn’t go away.
She took a sip of her coffee. Maybe it was just too recent—the vacation and the fun… and Sam. Maybe, probably, she would forget all about Cedar Crest. Maybe all the fun and good times would fade and Sam would become just another memory. But she didn’t want to forget and that was the problem. She didn’t want to forget about last week or Cedar Crest… or about Sam.
“Hey, see you this evening?” Jason touched her hand very quickly, and she started.
“What?”
“You see, Irene, she doesn’t want to be here, either.” He touched Katie’s hand again. “I said that I’ll see you this evening.”
“Yes, this evening.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got to get back to class.”
The rest of the day went by quickly. Jason was right. The students wanted to talk about their vacation but she stuck to her role as teacher and after assigning two poems for homework, she gave them the chance to put down their vacation happenings on paper. When the bell rang, she collected the essays, promising to read the best ones aloud the following day. At least, she reasoned, it was a way of getting them to think and write.
She looked around the empty classroom and focused on a beam of sunshine that filtered in through the window so that she could see bits of chalk dust floating in the air. It was really nice being here. She liked the quiet at the end of the day and she even liked the smell of the erasers. But it would never be the same again. There would always be a lingering doubt about whether she had made the correct choice.
She stacked all the essays and glanced at a poster on the far wall; it depicted a skier poised to go downhill. Last year’s senior class had given it to her when they graduated—“just to remember us by,” they told her when she walked into the room and saw it hanging. While she stared at it, suddenly the skier became Sam and once again she heard his shout of “Katie-Katie!” She took a deep breath. Getting over Sam would be difficult. But she would have to; Sam was a roamer and would always be one. Not like Jason… good, steady Jason. And it wasn’t as though she wasn’t fond of him. After all, she was engaged to him. She pushed her chair away from her desk and put her head down, feeling guilty. What would Jason say if he knew her thoughts?
Irene opened the door and closed it quickly. “Need a shoulder to cry on?” she asked. Katie nodded.
“Yeah. Can I use yours?”
“Anytime.” Irene sat down on the desk beside Katie. “Tell me about Sam.”
“He was there on vacation, like me. And he was alone,” Katie began.
Nodding her head from time to time, Irene listened as Katie told of the way she and Sam had met and of the time they spent together.
“And that’s all there was to it?” Irene asked afterward.
“Wasn’t that enough?”
“Well, you’ve told me all about your week with Sam and what a great time you had, but you forgot to tell me one important thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You didn’t tell me how you feel about him now. You told me all the highlights, but you never said what you really feel about him. And I think that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Truthfully.”
“I can’t. I don’t know.”
“Maybe you don’t want to know.”
Katie lowered her head. “No. Yes. Oh, Irene! It all seemed so perfect! Meeting Sam, being with him and doing all sorts of wonderful things that I’ve always wanted to do. But then this coming back to reality…” She slumped back into her chair.
“It was tough, wasn’t it?”
Katie sighed. “But maybe I’m worried for nothing.” She watched as the chalk dust played within the shaft of light. “Sam’s probably one of those love-them-and-leave-them guys.” She touched her friend’s arm. “Instead of a summer romance, maybe this is only a winter fascination.” She smiled sadly. “Variation on an old theme. Maybe it’ll all pass in another week.” She tried to laugh but didn’t quite succeed.
Irene played with the writing extension of the desk. “You don’t really believe that, do you? I thought you said he was a nice guy.”
“Yes, but nice guys can speak a good line too. Can’t they?”
“Don’t do that, Katie. Don’t try to joke it away. I can tell you’re hurting.” Irene drummed her fingers against the top of the desk. “It seems to me that you have a very real problem, my friend. And I just don’t mean Sam Whoever.”
Katie looked at her, puzzled. “But I won’t hear from him again, Irene. I told him never to call.”
“That’s not quite all the problem, Katie. Even if he never calls you—and I’m not so sure that will happen—you’re going to have to think about your relationship with Jason.” Irene got up and walked over to the skiing pos
ter. “Seems to me that your meeting this Sam was an omen. Maybe you really shouldn’t marry Jason. Maybe that’s part of your problem. You’re doing something you don’t want to do.”
Katie shook her head. “Don’t say that. My whole life for the past year has been geared toward marrying him. I never said I loved him. Not honest-to-goodness real love but Jason and I understand each other. I think we’d be good for each other. And that’s another kind of love.”
“You’re kidding yourself.” Irene picked up a piece of chalk and started to write on the blackboard. “One, Jason. Two, Sam. Three, Katie.” She drew a triangle and smiled. “Hey, I can’t help it if I’m the consummate geometry teacher.” She joined the three lines of the triangle with the names in each corner. “No matter how you figure it, Katie, X and Y and Z don’t a marriage make.” She drew a slash through the entire triangle. “I think you’d better get your feelings in order.”
Katie nodded, knowing that her friend was right. But what was she to do? Why tell Jason and hurt him if Sam was never coming back to her? She could still go on and marry Jason, still be a good wife to him. She would make him happy and he would never know about that last week on the slopes.
Chapter Fourteen
Katie watched as Jason finished coaching the baseball team. He was wearing the Baltimore Orioles cap that she had given him for a birthday present. His lucky cap, he called it, because last year’s team had gotten to the semifinals in the state championship.
“Hi.” Jason tossed her a ball. “I’ll be right there. Shall we get something to eat?” He turned away to speak to a player. Jason was always speaking to someone, always willing to give of his time, especially to her. Whenever she had to do something, whether to coach the cheerleaders or help with the class play, Jason was always ready to help too. No wonder everyone liked him. It was as though he could do no wrong.
And she? She constantly felt guilty. Here she was, keeping the lie about Sam within her. But was it actually a lie? Nothing had really happened. She realized that she had been doing that a lot lately, denying that anything had happened at Cedar Crest. If she repeated it often enough, maybe it would become the truth.
“Hey, Katie,” Jason said as they sat in her apartment that evening. “You never did tell me about your vacation. But then, it’s probably because I’ve gone on so much about the team.” He held her hand. “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes.”
She glanced down at their hands. Maybe now was a good time to tell him. She would chat about the whole week in a slow, casual voice and not make a big deal out of it.
“Okay, tell me. I promise to listen.” Jason settled back against the cushions.
She shrugged. “Oh, it was like always—good skiing, lots of people. I even met someone who teamed up with me on the slopes.” There, she’d begun to tell him. She looked up to see if his face indicated that he suspected anything amiss. But no, he was watching her with the interest he always showed in her skiing trips.
“From around here?”
“What?”
“Was the person from around here or the North or where?”
“From the Midwest. Actually, he works overseas. It was sort of a mini-vacation for him too.” She touched one of the music boxes. Maybe if she and Jason went to Cedar Crest, she would be able to find out if it was just the setting or if she had really fallen in love with Sam. Perhaps, if she and Jason were there together, she’d find out the truth.
“Come with me to Cedar Crest for a weekend before it gets too warm,” she urged him. “Just once.”
He finished his coffee. “Not me, Katie. You know I’m not a winter person. I guess that’s one of the few things we’ll never agree on.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever understand you and how you like chasing the last of the snow, especially when everyone else is waiting for the sun and the warm weather. It must be some instinctive thing with you, something you’ve always wanted or had when you were a little girl.”
She tried to make him see what she saw when she was there. “It’s the peace,” she said. “Everything is blanketed. You’re cold, but inside you’re warm because you’re content.” How could she ever explain it to him? It was something you had to experience, the special feeling that you were the only person in the world. She wanted to tell him about the beauty and grandeur of the snow-covered mountains and the impression it made on her, but he continued to shake his head.
“If you say so, Katie. To each her own.” He reached for her, and she offered no resistance as he held her in his arms. “I hope you don’t think you’re ever going to reform me. I’ll tell you what. Promise me that, after we’re married, you won’t try to reform me and turn me into a snow person, and I’ll promise not to insist that you like the hot weather.” He laughed. “Let’s never try to change each other. After all, I like you just the way you are.” He kissed her gently on the lips. “I really do, Katie.”
She leaned her head back into the cushions. Maybe his kisses weren’t as exciting as Sam’s, but they were genuine, and that only made her feel more depressed. If only there was something not to like about Jason but of course there wasn’t. He was much too nice.
He kissed her once again and left and she felt a pang of deceit. He had never asked any other questions about Sam, not even his name. That was because he trusted her. How was he to know that Sam had come into her life and changed all the rules?
She opened the book of poetry where she had put Sam’s picture and took it out. She had forgotten about the photo until this morning when she was searching for a certain poem by Langston Hughes and it fell out. She held the picture in front of her and looked at it, remembering the time when it was taken. They were standing near the top of Magic Mountain and another skier had come by and asked them if they would take his picture. After they did, as thanks, he took one of them and printed it out on the Crest’s printer and gave it to Katie.
It was her only picture of him but she knew that she didn’t need, nor would she ever need, the actual photograph in front of her to remember him. He was there in her memory. She smiled to herself as she remembered that one of her first impressions of him was that his ears were just a bit too large for his face but that they somehow gave him an endearing quality. No, she didn’t need a photograph. He was indelibly captured in her mind.
She looked at the cell phone on the table. Sometimes, when it was late at night and she couldn’t sleep, she would imagine that the phone had rung, and when she answered it, it would be Sam calling from some distant place, and they would talk for hours about what they were doing and what they would do. But then she’d fall asleep, and even though many of her dreams were punctuated with glimpses of him, he would be so far away that she could never get to him.
Once she had dreamed that they were still at Cedar Crest. She was at the top of Devil’s Mist and Sam was waiting for her at the bottom of the run. Somehow, everything that was vital to them depended on her getting down the slope. She could even hear Sam saying, “Come, Katie, come on. Follow me, we’ll do this together.” But she stood there paralyzed. And then she woke up and realized that she had called out his name. She stared into the dark until she realized that it was only a dream, a nightmare, and there was no Sam to meet and no Devil’s Mist to conquer. She had tried to go back to sleep then, but, instead, tossed on her bed for the remaining two hours before her alarm clock went off.
Tonight was another night like that one; only, this time someone had phoned her and then hung up before she could answer. It had awakened her, and she lay there, her arm outstretched toward the phone, waiting for it to ring again, fantasizing that it was Sam calling her. When she awoke the next morning, her arm was numb.
“If I tell you you look terrible, believe me,” Irene told Katie in the parking lot that morning. “It must be your conscience.” As Katie opened her mouth to speak, Irene caught herself: “I’m sorry. Just an unfortunate use of words.” She locked her car door. “Still haven’t heard from him?”
&nbs
p; “I really don’t expect to.” Katie shifted the stack of folders in her arms. “I told you it’s all over.”
“Only if you want it to be.” Irene opened the door to the school building. “I keep telling you—go for it. Tell Jason the wedding’s off. Call Sam and tell him the wedding’s on. A plus B equals C. Mathematically proven.” She smiled.
“You make everything seem so simple.”
“Because that’s the way it should be.”
“I can’t do it, Irene. I can’t trade my life.”
“Your orderly, well-tuned life?”
“Suppose Sam was just a flight of fancy, that he really had no lasting effect?”
“Then you would have known it by now.” Irene stopped at the foot of the hall stairs. “Tell me truthfully—have you forgotten about Sam?” She peered at her friend. “You don’t even have to answer that because your face tells me my answer.” She started running up the stairs, leaving Katie behind. “I’m telling you, my friend, go for it.” She turned at the landing and swept her arms out to include the schoolrooms and the hall and stairs. “There are other schools, other places. But is there another Sam Hubbard for you? Answer that riddle, Katie, and then you’ll know what to do.” Irene disappeared down a hall.
Katie had assigned an essay on romantic poetry and she knew that most students would choose to analyze one of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnets. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” She could see and hear them now, reading it aloud, snickering and circulating notes with parodies.
She remembered the first time she had heard the words and been stirred by their pledge of eternal devotion. Fifteen and ingenuous, she had asked herself then if she could ever love anyone that deeply or that strongly. Today she knew the answer.
Chapter Fifteen
Katie stayed after school to talk to two students who needed more help in their work. She had tried to show the difference between fact and fiction in a book report and the two boys wanted a more thorough explanation.
Warm Winter Love Page 9