A Little Learning

by Margot Early

  Of course, if she and Seamus…

  “Would you like to live here?” Seamus abruptly asked Lauren.

  “Yes,” answered Lauren, so swiftly that Rory wondered if there was something going on in the girl’s life in Sultan that none of them knew about. Yes, Lauren liked to flirt with Bobby, the lift operator. And there were some other young guys around, as well.

  But Lauren was only fourteen.

  Suddenly, Rory felt certain that a boy was behind Lauren’s desire to live in Sultan. And this made her uneasy. Because Sultan boys of Lauren’s age were usually in school during the day. And Rory herself didn’t know all the kids in town.

  The downside of Sultan’s economic reawakening was the number of new people in town. Many college-aged boys came to learn avalanche science, work for the ski areas in the mountains and simply bum around and ski the backcountry.

  Somebody better find out what that girl’s up to, she thought.

  Seamus asked Rory, “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “Sure… Thanks. Red.”

  She saw her father come through the front door. She nodded to him. He had some people with him whom she didn’t recognize—perhaps these were more strangers he was helping to sell on the idea of Sultan as a place to live. Maybe investors.

  Lauren wandered off. She was wearing expensive-looking Telluride clothes, hip-hugger jeans and a tight-fitting top that accentuated her figure. She could pass easily for older than fourteen, Rory thought.

  As Seamus handed her a glass of wine, Rory said, “I wonder if Lauren has a boyfriend we don’t know about.”

  “She’s dating someone I know about,” Seamus answered. “His name’s Silas. He’s new to the area, homeschooled, I think.”

  “You’ve met him.”

  “You’re worrying me,” Seamus remarked. “Yes, I met him. I haven’t met his parents, I’ll admit, but he’s come by the house twice to pick up Lauren. She comes home on time.”

  Rory did not understand why she felt so suspicious of a boy she’d never met. But it was there, and it was her intuition.

  She paid attention to her intuition. It told her when to avoid particular slopes, even if it looked like there was no danger of avalanche; when not to take that last run of the day. It had told her that Gandalf’s final illness was serious and would take him from her.

  Too much to hope it was wrong now.

  “You might…check up on things,” Rory said. “I don’t know anyone by that name, but you’re new in town, as well. It’s not as though you’ve lived here for years and know everyone.”

  “Did you date when you were fourteen?”

  “I never dated until college, Seamus.”

  “Where did you go to school?”

  “It was just one year. At Fort Lewis, in Durango. School wasn’t really… I tend to like jobs that I learn from experience. I’ve never been that successful in the classroom.”

  “Why didn’t you date before college?”

  She laughed. “I grew up here. Your schoolmates here are more like family. The biggest number of kids I ever had in my class was five.”

  “Wow,” Seamus remarked. “Is it that way still?”

  “It’s changing. There are lots of little kids now. But last year’s high school graduating class only had seven students.”

  He looked alarmed, perhaps realizing how different the educational process would be for his children if they moved to Sultan.

  He saw Lauren across the room, talking to a woman who looked as if she might be in college. As one, they laughed at some joke, both doubling over. Rory followed his gaze.

  “Who’s that?” he said.

  “I don’t know her name. She’s a barista at the coffeehouse. You know, she makes lattes and stuff.”

  His lips twitched. “I know what a barista is. I just wondered how Lauren knew her.”

  “I think she goes in there for coffee sometimes before teaching skiing lessons,” Rory said. “She said you let her drink coffee.”

  “I do. I probably shouldn’t.”

  Rory shrugged. “I’d be the wrong person to ask about this. I love the stuff. I don’t know if it’s worse for teenagers than it is for anyone else.”

  The Realtor spotted Seamus. “There you are,” she exclaimed, stepping over and taking his arm. “We were just about to tour the second floor. Please join us.”

  Rory noticed that her father’s entourage was waiting for the tour, as well. She said she’d remain downstairs, to give the others more room. In fact, she wanted to join Lauren and her barista friend and do some detective work regarding Silas. But before she could move in that direction, her father joined her.

  “I’m going to wait,” he said. “Let them go up themselves. After all, I’m not in the market for a big Victorian.”

  Rory nodded. She hoped that he thought she looked professional. She’d wanted to look refined for the open house, although the event had little to do with her or Samantha.

  “I wanted to let you know…” Her father seemed to hesitate.

  Rory glanced at him.

  “You seem to be keeping Seamus within appropriate bounds. That’s what I expect from employees.”

  Offended—even as she thought about her many impulses to yield to Seamus’s various invitations—Rory said, “It goes without saying.”

  “Then I apologize for saying it. He’s taken with you. He’s wealthy, ambitious, a nice guy for all that, and I hope he moves here. But entanglements tend to produce a different result.”

  Rory blinked once and thought of telling him that the question was moot, she wasn’t interested. But that would be a lie. Instead, she took umbrage at the word entanglements. She knew she should let it be. But he wasn’t a client. He was her employer, yes, but good grief, he’d brought this up.

  “You think he’s interested in an ‘entanglement’?” she finally asked. “A casual fling?”

  He took a quick breath, opened and shut his mouth. “I think even the best of intentions can lead to entanglements.”

  “You think a man couldn’t have serious feelings for me?” She couldn’t stop because he was her father.

  “Probably not that one,” Kurt answered bluntly.

  The back of Rory’s eyes grew hot. With horror, she feared she was going to cry. Not because of anything to do with Seamus. But because her own father thought Seamus Lee was too good for her. I can’t say anything. Nothing is the only thing to say.

  “You just don’t have much in common,” he shrugged. “You’re an extremely competent outdoorswoman, but he’s an entrepreneur, an artist, a world traveler. He’s back and forth between here and Japan. I think for a long-term commitment he’s unlikely to pick someone who has spent her whole life in Sultan, Colorado.”

  You jerk, was all she could think.

  “You’ve spent your life here,” she said.

  “Yes. But your mother had a much broader experience, and it created some conflict. She was a world traveler, studying plants on nearly every continent.”

  Rory was afraid to say more or ask more. It was the first time her father had ever even come close to discussing his relationship with her mother. Was he implying that because he and her mother had come from different backgrounds, that had somehow led to her mother’s infidelity?

  She said, softly, “I’m sorry she was unfaithful. But it was never my fault.”

  Her father didn’t answer at once. He stared thoughtfully at one of the antiques, a marble-topped highboy across the room. “She felt tied down by having a child. She did like to travel, yet she was also determined to keep nursing you. She used to leave you with your grandmother and go skiing. Every day. For hours. I thought she was just skiing.” His look was rueful. “You’re right. It wasn’t your fault.”

  But Rory understood what he believed. It lay beneath his words. It hadn’t been her fault. And yet it had.

  He said, “It was hers.”

  Everything inside her shifted again, and it was like hearing Seamus speak abo
ut Janine. It was her fault. It was her fault she died.

  When would she ever have another chance to ask her father the things she needed to know? She couldn’t let him walk away, leaving this conversation unfinished. She couldn’t let him leave without asking one thing. “Is that why you didn’t want me anymore? Because you were mad at her?”

  Kurt gazed into her face. “Rory Gorenzi, I never didn’t want you.”

  “But you never came around to Gran’s house. You wouldn’t have anything to do with us.”

  “I didn’t have the slightest idea what to do with a baby girl! But your grandmother did. And that was for the best.”

  “How can you possibly say that?” Rory exclaimed, forgetting where she was, forgetting the so far untouched glass of wine in her hands.

  Kurt Gorenzi gave a crusty mountain-man smile. “Because, daughter, you’ve turned out so well.” He met her eyes as he spoke, and she saw his sincerity.

  Her heart sang. Her father moved away to speak to some newcomers, but she felt only joy. Her father was proud of her. He thought she’d turned out well. No, it hadn’t been nice what he’d implied in regard to Seamus. But he cared, and he admired who she’d become. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy. She couldn’t wait for her grandmother to arrive at the open house so that she could discuss with Sondra some of the things her father had said—steering away, of course, from the subject of Rory’s mother’s and Sondra’s daughter’s infidelity.

  Sondra had spoken of those things to her. But she didn’t enjoy it. He was a playboy, Rory, she’d said of Kristen Gorenzi’s lover. A ski patrolman. He was all about skiing, and your mother, in that phase, was his counterpart. She wanted to be the best skier in Sultan.

  It sounded now, to Rory, a bit like Janine Jensen.

  Abruptly, Rory remembered Lauren and her plan to find out about Silas. Lauren had disappeared, but Beau leaned against a doorjamb in the archway leading to the dining room. He looked dejected.

  As Rory headed toward him, she couldn’t help hearing again her father’s heart-dampening words about Seamus. Somehow, they brought home to her just how much of her affection for Seamus’s children was tied to their father’s regard for her. Or that was how it seemed. Suddenly. Only because her father had said that Seamus wasn’t and couldn’t be serious about her. “Taken” with her, yes. Serious, no.

  So what was she doing befriending these children? It wasn’t part of her job, not twenty-four hours a day. Her job ended at approximately 5:00 p.m. every day.

  But I like them.

  And in a couple of months, they and their father would be gone from her life.

  Her pleasure in her father’s compliments now diminished by his uncomplimentary remarks, she approached Beau. “How’s it going? You look bored out of your mind.”

  “I’m babysitting.” He gestured toward the dining room floor, where Belle and Caleb were playing with giant Lego blocks the Realtor’s crew had brought over.

  “Are you getting paid?” Rory asked.

  Beau shook his head. “They’re my brother and sister. Anyhow, I get an allowance. We all do. It’s for doing stuff like this.”

  Rory thought for a moment. “There are more games down in the basement. Have you ever played Nok-Hockey?”

  Beau straightened up. “No. What is it?”

  “Why don’t you all come downstairs and we’ll play.”

  *

  SEAMUS GLANCED OUT an upstairs window. He admired the walnut sill and studied the streetlight below. Because it was on Sultan’s most historic street the lamp was Victorian, as well. What would it be like to live in this town, perhaps in this showpiece of a home?

  Rory had made clear that she wouldn’t become romantically involved with a client of the Sultan Mountain School. That was a mature and reasonable stance, and Seamus applauded her for it. But what about when the course was over? He sensed she wouldn’t discourage his attention then.

  A figure paused under the lamplight. A young man in a stocking cap, the kind of loose clothing snowboarders wore, a warm jacket. As Seamus watched, another figure came to join him, and Seamus recognized his daughter Lauren.

  Rory’s warnings echoed in his head.

  Yes, the boy was probably Silas. And yes, he should probably have asked Silas more questions, found out more.

  The two weren’t doing anything, just standing in the cold talking. After a brief time, the boy turned away and Lauren came back toward the house, though she looked back over her shoulder as she did so.

  Maybe fourteen was too young to be dating.

  Well, if so, it was a little late for him to do anything about it. Lauren had had her first “boyfriend” at the age of twelve. A boy in her class. Nothing about the situation, however silly it had seemed to Seamus, had worried him. But how old was Silas, really? Seamus had thought he was high school age. But not a senior. I just didn’t look at him that closely.

  He remembered why he hadn’t. Because Lauren had been acting tough, acting the way she remembered Janine acting. Any guy who tries taking advantage of me is going to wish he hadn’t.

  Seamus had thought, Yes, he will. Because of me. Lauren had no self-defense training. She’d just been putting on the attitude, like a clone of her mother.

  Seamus had been glad when Silas had arrived and he and Lauren left on foot to go have some dinner at the pizza place up the street.

  I’m making a mess of things, he thought now. How could he lay down rules for Lauren’s life if he was so afraid of another fight with her about Janine, so afraid of unleashing his own anger?

  Yes, she was a good-enough student.

  Yes, she was an athlete.

  What was there to complain about in her behavior?

  As long as Fiona’s around, he thought.

  But he had told Fiona he wanted to try getting on without her again—just for a time, just to see how it would go.

  He rejoined the house tour. When it was over, he found Lauren talking to her friend, the barista. He joined them, and Lauren introduced him to Helena.

  Helena was no high-school student. Seamus felt certain of that. College age, maybe, though she could be in her early to mid-twenties. Helena looked at a mountaineering watch on her wrist and said, “See you, Lauren. At our place, if not before.”

  As she left, Seamus said, “Our place?”

  “The coffeehouse,” Lauren said. “She works there.”

  “That’s its name?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Her family owns it?”

  The briefest hesitation. Yes, she was lying. About something. But she said, “No. Not that I know of.”

  “What do Silas’s parents do in Sultan?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

  “You’ve met them?” Seamus asked.

  “Actually, no.”

  “How old is Silas?”

  Lauren looked at him squarely. “Why are you suddenly on this Twenty Questions About Silas kick?”

  “I saw you talking to him out on the sidewalk. From an upstairs window.”

  “That wasn’t even Silas. That was Jeremy.”

  “Who’s Jeremy?”

  “He works at the ski area. He’s just a friend. I can have friends, can’t I?”

  Seamus felt outmaneuvered and wasn’t sure why. He refused to be sidetracked. “How old, exactly, is Silas?”

  “Exactly? Like, when’s his birthday?”

  “Years will do.”

  She shrugged. “He’s, like, in high school.”

  Did the excessive use of like indicate lying? Seamus suspected so, in this case. “Like,” he said, “what year in high school?”

  “Um, probably about senior because he skipped a grade.”

  “He’s out of school, isn’t he?” Seamus said, deciding to sound, at this stage, as though it was no big deal.

  She shrugged. “You know. Home school’s kind of loose.”

  No, it’s not, Seamus almost answered.

  “He’s here in S
ultan with his family. Yes or no?”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “No, all right? He’s got roommates. He’s not, like, a criminal.”

  “If he wants to see you again,” Seamus said, and now his daughter’s face was red as she glanced around her to make sure they weren’t being overheard, “he can come talk to me and explain why someone out of school is interested in dating a fourteen-year-old girl.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be interested?”

  Seamus didn’t want to explain that most males in that general age group had more than kissing on the mind and going further with a fourteen-year-old was illegal. He wouldn’t say this, because it wasn’t okay with him for Lauren get that involved with any boy, and he didn’t want to put the idea in her head. It just seemed safer not to explain.

  And yet she’d asked.

  I can’t do this. I can’t be both mother and father to this child.

  “Let’s talk about this at home,” he suggested. Which at least bought him a little time. “Where are your brothers and sister?”

  “I don’t know.” Shrug. “We’re all just friends.”

  “You need friends your own age.”

  “You brought us here.”

  Seamus retreated into silence. He prowled the first floor without finding Beau, Caleb or Belle and finally decided they might be in the basement—which had not been on the house tour but which the Realtor had shown on request.

  His children sat on the indoor-outdoor carpet in the basement, which was set up as a recreation room since Lola’s departure. A three-by-five-foot board, small hockey sticks, wooden pucks. Belle was at one goal and Rory at the other, giving lots of encouragement.

  “Nok-Hockey!” Seamus exclaimed. “I haven’t seen this for years.”

  “It was my dad’s, actually. A lot of his childhood toys ended up at my grandmother’s house when I was a kid.”

  “He must have wanted you to have them.”

  She glanced up at him, and a range of emotions flickered in her eyes. A happiness at seeing him that seemed, just as quickly, to be extinguished, as if she’d just thought of something unpleasant or discouraging.